


In Which The Gods Screw Over Humanity (Twice)

by Sam4265



Category: DCU, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demigods, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Bottom Bruce Wayne, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Temporary Character Death, not even sort of slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7109218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam4265/pseuds/Sam4265
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2010 Dick, Jason and Roy must find Eros’ bow, kill Arachne and try not to die.<br/>In 1993 Clark needs Achilles sword to kill Hecate and become a god, and Bruce has to keep him from accidentally getting himself killed.<br/>In which I take some liberties with Greek mythology and disregard most of DC canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome To Camp Half-Blood

**Author's Note:**

> So canon barely exists in this. I'm not writing anyone who comes into canon past Jason, because Dick and Jason are both 15 and nobody else would really exist yet. This is two stories combined into one, they're not intertwining or anything, they're just being told at the same time. One is entirely superbat and the boys are teenagers so no children. One is jaydick in which superbat still exists, but its more in the background. I'm going to try to keep posting at about a chapter a week, but it might come sooner than that. I finished three chapters in one day, and I already planned the whole thing out, so it could very well be sooner.  
> As for the aforementioned canon, Percy Jackson and all his people don't exist, this is an entirely DC oriented fic, which means the only people who are in both PJ and this are the gods and Chiron. It's been a while since I read Percy Jackson, so I've been very liberally using the PJ wiki, however some discrepancies are deliberate because of how I'm blending the fandoms. So please be patient with discrepancies, but if it's something ridiculous that I obviously just got wrong, then feel free to tell me.  
> Batman and Superman exist, they're just demigods fighting human and not so human monsters now, instead of a human and an alien.  
> I hope you guys enjoy!

Jason was in the middle of selling a bag of marajuana to an entirely too blonde sorority girl when he saw them. At the end of the alley stood a boy with a shock of red hair and a medieval looking bow, and a man with goat legs. Goat legs. Jason stared at them for a moment before deciding running was probably a good idea. He snatched the money from the co-ed’s hands and took off down the alley. Ratty mud covered sneakers pounded against the ground as Jason ran as fast as he could. He’d always been good at running away. For some reason he was always faster than the people chasing him, so there was a good chance he could outrun the strange people at the end of the alley, if they were in fact real and not just a product of whatever had been wafting up through the floorboards of his apartment. He didn't think he was high. There were always weird smells coming from the apartment below his, but they were usually safe. High or not Jason ran, as far and as fast as he could, until finally he heard the sound of hooves gaining on him. He tried to turn back onto the street, but was tackled. He went down hard, head smacking the concrete, palms scraping against cracked sidewalk. He groaned and tried to turn over but instead was pulled to standing by the person who’d tackled him. They had their arms held tight around him, too strong for him to break free.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.” The man growled. Jason jerked and snarled in the man’s grasp, but the effort was useless. The hands holding him were inhumanly strong, and he simply couldn't break free.

“Then talk.” He snapped. He heard footsteps again, and suddenly the redhead was standing in front of him. He was breathing hard and clutching a bow in his left hand. There was a quiver strapped to his back, and he was grinning.

“Shit Oakley, let the guy go. You’re gonna break his damn ribs, man.” The man holding hesitated, but eventually released Jason with a sign. Jason swallowed hard and looked around the alley. If he ran now, he could probably get back to the street before goat legs (Oakley?) tackled him, but if the red head really did know how to use that bow, then running would be useless. Jason turned to look back at his attacker, and his eyes widened when he saw that he’d been right. The man, definitely Oakley, did indeed have goat legs. Jason stared at them, eyes wide and mouth open until the goatman huffed and snapped, “My eyes are up here, kid.” Jason looked up. Oakley had a normal face, completely human. You’d never know that his legs were, well, a goat's. 

“Hey man, I’m Roy, Roy Harper," The red head said suddenly. Jason turned sharply back to him, "This is Oakley. We’re here to take you to Camp Half-Blood. You’re a demigod, dude.” Roy said, grin still in place. Jason stared at him and raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Really?” He deadpanned. Roy shrugged. 

“Oakley’s got goat legs man, doesn’t that at least merit listening to? You don’t have to believe me yet, but dude, goat legs.” 

Oakley groaned and rolled his eyes, decidedly unimpressed with Roy’s argument. Jason, on the other hand, had to admit he had a point. 

“Ok, kid, how about this for a reason. Do you have dyslexia? You know, that thing where the letters get all jumbled up and it feels like you're trying to read gibberish? That’s because you’re not supposed to read english, you’re supposed to read ancient greek. How about ADHD? Can’t sit still for even a second, too busy scoping out the nearest exit, or reading all the threats in a room?" "This is Gotham," Jason deadpanned. "That's what we all do." Oakley sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes, "Well that's actually your natural warriors's instincts busting' your ass. What about what just happened back there? You ran faster than any human should be able to, I’d be willing to bet that you’re probably stronger than the average bear too. You’re not normal, and you know it, so come with us and I can show you why.” Oakley snapped. Jason eyed him warily. It didn't make sense, it really didn't. This was Gotham. He’d been attacked by slave traders no less than four times. A man had tried to drag him into a van once, and Jason had bit off his finger. This was Gotham, where kidnapping was just the order of the day, every day. But if Jason had to be honest, there was something about what Oakley was saying. Something that, despite the utter insanity of it all, rang true to his ears. 

“If this is some kind of hoax to tag me and ship me off to some third world country as a sex slave, I’m just warning you that the last guy who tried lost his finger.” Jason spat, just in case. Roy looked scandalized. Oakley just looked amused.

“Please, if I wanted ass that bad, I’d get it from someone who wasn’t covered head to toe in sewer. Follow me hot head.” He snarked, and started clomping back towards the other end of the alley. Jason couldn't say what made him follow. It still sounded like utter insanity, but maybe it was the fact that he'd always been able to outrun everyone who chased him. Maybe it was the way the letters danced about the page, rearranging themselves into ridiculous combinations before his eyes. Maybe it was because the only family he'd ever had were Catherine and Willis Todd, and what kind of family were they? Hell, maybe it was the damn goat legs, but whatever it was spurred him on, and after a moments hesitation, Jason followed Oakley, Roy quickly stepping in line beside him. 

“How’d he lose the finger?” Roy asked. 

Jason snorted, “I bit it off.” Roy swallowed hard and winced. 

“Shit man, that’s intense.”

“That’s Gotham.” Jason replied, barely holding back a sigh.

+++

Oakley led them to a beat up looking chevy and hopped inside, not looking back to see if they followed. Roy got right in, but Jason hesitated. This was a dumb move all around. All his honed Gotham street rat instincts were telling him that this was a shitty idea, and that he should turn tail and run. Something else though, something else was telling him to go for it. Get in the truck, see what happens. Jason thought about his life up until that point and decided the risk was worth it. Even if they were slave traders, at least it would bring a change in scenery. Jason got inside the truck and buckled in next to Roy. 

“Where are we going?” He asked. 

“Camp Half-Blood. It’s a safe haven for demigods, and,” Oakley looked back. “Yup that means you. An Ares kid apparently. I’ve kind of been expecting one, it’s been a while.” He was looking above Jason’s head, and when Jason looked up, he saw a spear and shield glimmering above his head. His jaw dropped, and then he snapped his head back to look at Roy.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, voice cracking. Roy snorted. 

“You’ve just been claimed dude. That’s Ares’ symbol, means you’re his son. I’m Apollo’s son, in case you were curious.” He motioned to the bow lying in between them. Jason looked back up to see the symbol fading. 

“You’re telling me that I’m the son of Ares, and that my,” he almost choked on the word. “dad, just claimed me as his?” 

“Yeah. Don’t you have a step dad, or is your mom single?” Roy asked. Jason thought back to his parents. He didn’t really know where they were. Doubtless his father was in prison by now. He’d been under suspicion when Jason had run away, so he was probably in Blackgate by now. His mother, well she was either lying in a bathroom somewhere, high out of her mind, or she was already dead. Given that she’d OD’d twice before he’d left, and he’d been the one to call the cops, he was fairly certain it was the later. But they weren’t his real parents anyway, he’d been adopted, or so they said. He never knew his birth mother, not that he’d really wanted to. She left him with the Todd’s, he never wanted to meet the woman that left her child with people like Willis and Catherine Todd. 

“I was adopted.” Jason said shortly. Roy let it go. 

They drove for hours, mainly in silence. Jason got the feeling that they were driving north, towards New York. They didn’t go to New York however, they turned east at the last minute, heading towards the Long Island Sound. Jason stared out the window, eyes shut against the light and thought of the life he'd left behind. Not that it was really ever much of one. A life full of stale cigarettes and junkie next door neighbors was not one he'd wish on anybody. The things he'd had to do for money were... well he didn’t really want to think about it. He’d just been claimed as Ares, the freaking god of war’s, son. He had better things to think about now. He’d never really had a father. Willis was a shithead and a petty crook who'd done grunt work for the Penguin on occasion. Jason had never had anything to look up to in that man. He didn’t have any other father figures either. There’d been his first grade teacher, Mr. Monahan, he’d been nice to Jason. The first person to be nice to him in his entire life. He’d helped Jason learn to read as best he could (which wasn’t very well), and he hadn’t given up on him, even when Jason had lost his temper and thrown tantrums in the middle of their lessons. He’d tried to help Jason probono, but the summer before second grade Mr. Monahan had been transferred to Metropolis, and Jason had never heard from him again. Jason didn’t know what to expect from Ares, or if he should expect anything at all. The gods in the stories never really did much for their kids, but they always seemed to care about them, that’d be something new. Jason just hoped that Ares at least cared enough to meet him. 

“We’re about twenty minutes away now boys.” Oakley gruffed from the front seat. Roy, who’d been dozing lightly in the seat beside him, jerked awake at the sudden noise.

“Right, thanks Oakley.” 

Jason turned to face Roy, “What’s the camp like?” He asked. Roy shrugged.

“Dunno, never been there before. This is my first time too. My adoptive dad, Oliver Queen, he went missing a few weeks ago, lost at sea. After that all this really freaky shit started happening. I’d see people watching or following me, it all came to a head about a week ago when this guy cornered me in an alley and turned into a cyclops and tried to kill me. Oakley got to me in the nick of time. Cyclops got away, but if he hadn’t been there, I’d probably be pudding by now. Ain’t that right, Oakley?” Roy asked, smiling again.

“Damn straight arrow head.” Oakley replied. Roy laughed lightly and picked up his bow.

“Yeah, Apollo claimed me right then and there, he showed up a few days later and gave me this. He said none of his kids should ever be without one.” He touched it reverently, like it was holy or something. Jason eyed it critically, it looked like just a regular bow to him, then again, archery was never his thing.

“It can’t miss.” Roy said, lovingly stroking the handle. Jason raised his eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Damn.”

“I know right?” 

Jason watched Roy carefully tend to the bow for a few moment before he decided to speak again.

“Do you think I’ll meet Ares?” He asked, voice barely more than a whisper. Roy glanced sideways at him, and the air in the car grew awkward. 

“I don’t know, man. I honestly don’t know. Gods are kind of picky like that. They don’t really talk to their kids. Oakley thinks Apollo showing up himself was more a courtesy to Oliver than anything else. Turns out Ollie’s his son too, was a big hero back in the day. I don’t know anything about Ares, so I couldn’t tell you. Don’t lose hope though, I’m sure some day you’ll meet him.” 

Jason didn’t want to acknowledge how desperately he wanted that to be true. They drove in silence for a little while longer, until finally Oakley stopped at the bottom of a steep hill with a single solitary tree at the top. 

“Here we are boys, Camp Half-Blood. We’ll be meeting Chiron inside the Big House.” 

Jason looked out the window, unimpressed by the empty valley and solitary tree. “Impressive.” He said sarcastically. 

“You can’t see it until you’re past the tree, hot shot. A mystical barrier protects the camp,” Oakley shot back. “Now get your skinny asses in gear, I want to get there before the feast starts.”

They got out of the car obediently, and started walking toward the top of the hill. They were about halfway up the hill when Jason started to hear thundering footsteps racing toward them. The hill itself seemed to be shaking. Jason idly wondered if Long Island Sound got earthquakes too, when Roy shouted, “Cyclops!” Jason whipped around to see Oakley running towards a giant ten foot tall man with one eye and the body of a bodybuilder on steroids. Roy was already drawing an arrow, getting ready to fire, Oakley had pulled out a sword from seemingly nowhere and was swinging viciously at the cyclops' legs. Jason started running back down the hill, when the cyclops roared and smacked Oakley away. Oakley went flying, and landed next to Jason with a sickening crunch. Jason stooped to check on him, but he wasn’t moving. Jason swallowed hard, tried not to think about it. He could still be alive, they just needed to kill this stupid cyclops before they all died. He grabbed Oakley’s sword and turned around. The sword was a little too long and a little too light, and it felt clumsy in his hand. He ran back to where Roy was shooting arrows at the cyclops. The arrows were hitting him, but he just kept coming. Jason ran past Roy, ignoring his shouts for Jason to stop, and launched himself at the cyclops. He jumped and swung at the same time, opening a gash in the things chest. He tumbled backwards, landing hard on his back, and seconds later an arrow was lodged in the gash in the monster’s chest. It roared once more, before falling to the ground, dead. Jason sat up, panting, covered in blood, and stared wide eyed at the dead monster at his feet. He stared and stared, completely in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Then there was someone shaking his shoulder. Jason jumped slightly, but turned to see a grim-faced Roy behind him. 

“Come on, we have to get to the camp, we're not safe until we're inside.” Jason nodded. They walked back to where Oakley lay, still unmoving, a faint trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. Wordlessly, they each picked up one end of the man, and carried him up the hill and across the border. When they got past the tree they finally saw it, Camp Half-Blood in all its glory. It was overwhelmingly greek style, with greek columns on almost every building, and a fire pit in the very center of a U of houses. There was a large, sky blue house to their near immediate right. Jason and Roy ignored the crowds of now silent kids, most holding swords or knives, or other weapons. They carried Oakley towards the large blue house, Jason was fairly certain this was what Oakley had meant when he’d said Chiron would meet them at the Big House. They carried Oakley up onto the porch. They dropped him on the bench next to the door, and Jason knocked roughly. There were the sounds of footsteps, and then the door opened, revealing the most beautiful boy Jason had ever seen. He was rather short, a good few inches shorter than Jason. He had pitch black hair, and eyes that were shockingly, inhumanly blue. His skin was a few shades darker than Jason's, making his eyes pop that much more against olive toned skin. He smiled at Jason, and it was like the whole world stopped. There was nothing but Jason and that smile. Jason shook his head slightly to clear it. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, he was not the love at first sight kind of guy.

“Chiron?” He asked finally. The boy’s eyebrows drew together, and he shook his head. Jason motioned to Oakley, lying unmoving on the bench. The boy gasped, eyes widening in shock. He turned back into the house immediately and shouted inside. 

“Chiron!” The boy yelled, and gods his voice was like a freaking melody. Jason forced himself to relax. The sound of hooves coming closer made their way to Jason’s ears, and Jason expected to see another goat man, but was shocked to see a giant centaur instead. The beautiful boy moved out of the way, and let the centaur, supposedly the illusive Chiron, through the massive doorway. Chiron grimaced, his eyes flit from Oakley to Roy to Jason. 

“Would you two be so kind as to bring him inside please?" They nodded almost unwittingly, and picked Oakley up, each holding onto one end of him. "Dick," Chiron continued, "go find Harrison and tell him to bring a his medical bag.” The boy, Dick, nodded and took off towards one of the buildings that wasn’t in the U. Chiron turned and walked inside. Jason and Roy had no choice but to follow. Chiron led them through a living area towards one of the rooms in the back. Inside there was a bed, several chairs, and a table. 

“Put him there.” Chiron said, motioning to the bed. Jason and Roy carefully dropped Oakley onto the bed and turned to back to Chiron. 

“So, I’m Roy Harper, this is Jason, uh, Jason…” He trailed off, side-eyeing Jason.

“Todd.” Jason supplied, shooting Roy a glare. 

“Right, Jason Todd, I knew that.” Roy muttered. Chiron nodded, silently examining Oakley.

“We were attacked when we got here, by a cyclops.” Jason explained.

“Yeah, the same one that attacked me last week.” Roy added. Chiron looked up, opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped by the sound of a door opening and closing. Then Dick was there, with another boy in toe. The boy behind him was tall and skinny, with sand colored hair, and was clutching a medicine bag. 

“I’m sorry to have called you here Harrison, but I believe dear Mr. Oakley has already passed. Would you gather some of your siblings and get a pyre ready for him?” Chiron asked. Harrison nodded, walking right back out of the house. Chiron sighed.

“You boys better come with me, you too Dick.” Dick nodded, and started walking after Chiron. Jason and Roy followed them back into the living area where Chiron stood at the window. He motioned for them to sit. 

“So you boys are the new recruits Mr. Oakley was sent to retrieve, I’m assuming.” Chiron said.

“Yeah, we’re, uh, demigods, I guess. Um, I’m Apollo’s kid, and tall dark and scowly here is Ares’ son.” Roy said. Jason rolled his eyes, but noticed Dick’s mouth twitch into a smile.

“I’m Chiron, centaur and trainer of heroes. I trained all the greats, as you may or may not know. It’s nice to meet you two. This is Richard Grayson, son of Aphrodite.” Chiron said, motioning to Dick. Jason was not at all surprised to learn Dick’s parentage. He definitely looked like the goddess of beauty’s son. 

“Hi,” Dick said, waving a little. Roy winked at him.

“Hey gorgeous.” 

Dick’s eyebrows wrinkled adorably, his eyes widening a fraction, and Jason elbowed Roy hard in the ribs. Chiron looked rather amused by the whole ordeal.

“Well, this is a horrible way for you boys to enter your new life, but what’s done is done. We will have a funeral for Mr. Oakley tonight, if you boys would like to come, and I will launch a full investigation into this cyclops attack. It is utterly rare for any such monster to get this close to the barrier, I need to know why it was here. Why it followed Mr. Harper here all the way from…?” He trailed off.

“Star City.” Roy supplied. Chiron looked even more troubled. 

“That’s a long way to go for a son of Apollo. I’ll look into it and tell you boys what I find out. Now, Mr. Grayson will take you to your cabins. Good evening boys.” With that Dick led Jason and Roy out of the house. 

“That’s it?” Jason groused. “No information? No ‘so turns out you’re a demigod’ pamphlet? What the hell?” He said as they left the Big House. Dick sighed.

“It’s just Chiron. Give him a break, his friend just died.” 

Jason didn’t like it, but he stayed silent. 

“So, cabin’s huh? We sleepin’ close together sweetheart?” Roy flirted unabashedly with Dick, who completely ignored him. 

“Try on opposite ends of the camp hot shot.” Dick fired back. Jason snorted a laugh and ignored Roy’s glare. They stopped in front of a large gold cabin, complete with greek columns and a lavish porch. 

“This is the Apollo cabin. If you go in you’ll meet all your new half siblings. The guy you met back at Chiron’s, Harrison? He’s the head of the Apollo cabin, he’ll tell you all about life here.” Dick told Roy. He then grabbed Jason’s wrist and smiled at him.

"You’re a little farther down, come on.”

Roy raised an eyebrow at the hand holding, which Jason studiously ignored. 

“I’ll see you later then, Roy?” Jason asked. Roy nodded.

“At the funeral man. See you.” Roy headed up toward the cabin door and knocked. Jason followed Dick to the next cabin over. It was painted red, very badly too, like someone had just dumped paint over the roof, and not bothered to paint what hadn't been covered. There was a gigantic boar's head hanging intimidatingly over the door. The roof was covered in barbed wire. Jason kind of liked it in a weird sort of way. 

“This is the Ares cabin. Like I said, you’ll find all your new half-siblings inside.” Dick said. By all means his job was more than done, but Jason thought he seemed a little reluctant to go. 

“I’m in Aphrodite, as you can probably guess,” He pointed back towards where the big house had been, at a blue and gray cabin towards the end of the U with pink and red decorating the outside, it reminded Jason vaguely of the barbie houses he'd seen in toy store windows. It really was on the opposite side of camp. “That’s me, if you want to come by sometime. I’m the head of the cabin, so I won’t be hard to find. Just ask.” He said, smiling brightly at Jason. 

“Would you want me to ask?” Jason asked. Dick licked his lips, eyelashes lowering even as he craned his neck to look up at Jason.

“I think so. I’ll see you later Jay.” He said. Jason opened his mouth to tell Dick it was Jason, not Jay, but was shut up by a salacious wink, and a sashaying ass as Dick walked away. Jason swallowed hard, it had been a long day and he was too tired for this shit. Jason sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered how long it would be before he got to sleep. Hardening his resolve, he walked up to the door, and knocked.


	2. The Dynamic Duo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus starts the Superbat portion of the story, enjoy!

Bruce watched, lips thinned into a tight angry line, as Clark climbed the lava wall. Bruce had won last time they’d climbed together, and it seemed Clark hadn’t forgotten. He’d kicked Bruce off the wall about halfway up. Bruce was going to put spray cheese in Clark’s pillow, he’d already decided. Clark quickly reached the top, beating out two kids from Hermes and a girl from Demeter. Bruce rolled his eyes as Clark simply jumped down from the top, landing hard and making the nearby picnic table rattle. 

“Show off,” Bruce said airily, walking away from Clark, who hurried to catch up to him. Clark’s arm found its way around Bruce’s shoulders and squeezed.

“Don’t be like that Bruce. I had to beat you eventually, after all I am the son of Zeus, it’s only natural.” Clark gave Bruce a cheeky grin. Bruce just elbowed him in the stomach, hard. He walked on while Clark stood, hunched over and gasping for breath behind him. Bruce turned around and folded his arms. 

“What’s the matter? Big bad son of Zeus winded by a little elbow?” He mocked, grin sliding into place on his lips. Clark looked up from where he was clutching his stomach with a glare.

“It’s your stupid knobby elbows, they hurt you jerk.” Clark said, but his playful eyes and smirking mouth dispersed of any hard feelings. Bruce just smiled and waited until Clark had finished pretending to mope before walking on.

“Come on you big baby, we’ll miss dinner, and you know how unhappy I get when I miss dinner.” They walked together toward the dining pavilion, where Clark piled steak after ribs after chicken breast on his plate, and Bruce picked through the food offered by the nymphs, choosing the brightest apples, the best smelling cheese, and the freshest looking bread. They each scraped a portion of their dinner into the same fire pit, praying to Athena (Bruce) and Zeus (Clark), before going to sit at their usual table. Clark sat on the end, and Bruce sat right next to him. 

“So I heard you beat an entire team of Ares kids today in a strategy session.” Clark said conversationally in between giant bites of steak. Bruce shrugged. 

“What can I say? They’re all meatheads. It’s not my fault they can’t strategize to save their lives.” He replied, spreading cheese on a torn piece of bread. Clark snorted.

“You know that’s not true. It’s just that my little son of Athena is the best strategist in camp.” Clark teased. 

“You joke, but I am.” Bruce replied simply, placing a slice of apple on top of the cheese slathered bread before taking a bite. Clark smiled down at Bruce, letting his steak go ignored as he admired his friend. Bruce and Clark were more or less legends in the camp. Clark was trying to achieve god status, and like Hercules before him, was constantly going on quests to try and prove himself to his father. Three years ago when Clark had first started these quests, Chiron had chosen the level headed and pragmatic Bruce to accompany him. The son of Zeus and the son of Athena working together, they’d been unstoppable, much like their parents before them. For the last three years they’d been working together nearly nonstop. Bruce had solved more godly puzzles than anyone else Clark knew, and Clark had killed more monsters than anyone Bruce knew. They were the perfect complement to each other, and everyone at camp knew it. Few people would even fight them nowadays, because Bruce and Clark always won. Clark was physically stronger and more durable than anyone else in the camp, and Bruce was smarter by far than anyone else. Everyone always knew it was them when they walked by. Clark was the largest person in camp, 6’4” already at 16, Bruce nearly six feet and still growing next to him. They matched as well, black hair, blue eyes, fair skin. Their features said they could be brothers, but they didn’t look anything alike. No, Clark thought Bruce was much more beautiful than he was. Despite having the same color everything, Clark thought there was a certain beauty about Bruce. He was the son of a goddess and the Gotham socialite Thomas Wayne, and that regality showed in every facet of his being. He was impossibly beautiful, with kissable lips, sharp intelligent eyes, and elegant features. He wasn’t quite delicate, no, Bruce was strong and brutal and the best fighter in the camp after Clark. He was gorgeous, and Clark was more than a little in love with him. 

Bruce looked up from where he was munching happily on his bread and cheese, and raised an eyebrow at Clark.

“What?” 

“Nothing, you’re just awesome.” Clark said, taking another giant bite of steak to stop himself from saying anything he'd regret. Bruce grinned. 

“I know.” 

As Clark burst out laughing, three people joined them at their table. John Stewart, the dark skinned son of Ares who was intense in battle and a sarcastic lovable asshole everywhere else, Wally West, the prankster son of Apollo with a gift for speed and curses, and Diana, the ruthless and brilliant Amazon princess who was more or less an exchange student from Themyscira. 

“So, how was the Ares team Bruce?” Wally asked immediately. “I heard you gave them all blowjobs.” He said with a cheeky grin, and got an elbow in the ribs from Diana for his trouble. Wally doubled over gasping, and Clark grinned widely at Diana. 

“So Diana, how much longer are you going to be here?” Bruce asked, studiously ignoring Wally.

“Just the next fortnight I believe. Mother wants me back on Themyscira to battle for the armor soon. There’s going to be games to see who gets the honor of wearing your mother’s armor, Bruce.”

“And by games you mean…” John trailed off.

“Vicious and bloody battles, of course.” She replied, as though it should be obvious.

“Of course.” Clark replied, nodding his head in agreement. Bruce rolled his eyes and studiously went back to his food. 

They ate amicably together. In the beginning it has just been Bruce and Clark. John had joined them soon after, bringing Wally with him. Diana had joined their rag tag group as soon as she’d arrived, three months earlier. She’d wanted to meet the famed son of Zeus, and had been surprised to see he was a Kansas bred goofball whose shadow was the son of the goddess who’d made the famous amazonian armor. Diana had quickly become more fascinated by Bruce than Clark. 

When they were done eating half the campers headed for the fire pit, and the other half headed for the training grounds.

“We’re going to go listen to Chiron tell war stories, you guys coming?” Wally asked, John already making his way to the pit. Diana shook her head.

“I’m going to go challenge some daughters of Athena to a duel. I’d like to battle them a few more times before I have to leave.” She said. “Would you two like to join me?” She asked, turning towards Bruce and Clark. Bruce was about to agree when Clark shook his head. 

“Nah, we’ve got something to do. We’ll see you guys later though.” After quick goodbye’s, Clark grabbed Bruce’s hand and led him toward the forest. 

“Clark, where are we going?” He asked. 

“You’ll see, just come on!” Clark tugged Bruce along, through the trees, and into a small grassy clearing. There was a blanket spread out already, and an old telescope was resting on a marble slab in the middle of the clearing. It was something Chiron had told Clark about in passing several weeks ago. Not many of the campers knew about it, and he’d wanted somewhere to go to be alone with Bruce. 

“Clark, what is this place?” Bruce asked, wonder in his voice as he made his way over to the telescope. 

“Chiron told me about it. I don’t think the thought I’d actually use it though.” Bruce was slightly bent over, gazing into the telescope. Clark’s eyes were on a much more earthly beauty, Bruce’s ass. Clark walked forward until he was at the edge of the picnic blanket, ridiculously pleased that he’d made Bruce happy. He laid back on the blanket, and stared up at the sky. He knew most of the constellations, they were a lot of greek heroes up there after all. Including Hercules, the half brother he never knew that he was more or less always compared to. Clark and Hercules shared a lot of attributes, and Clark was striving for the same thing Hercules had been; a place on Mount Olympus among the gods. It was a dangerous dream, a potentially deadly one, but Clark saw little point to life if no one remembered you. If no one remembered you it meant you hadn’t done anything to earn that remembrance. Clark wanted glory and greatness, he wanted a place among those stars. 

Bruce laid down next to him suddenly, Clark was overwhelmingly aware of Bruce’s heat all along his side. 

“They’re beautiful.” Bruce muttered. 

“So are you.” Clark said, unthinking. His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn’t take it back. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” Bruce asked, lifting himself on an elbow. Clark snorted.

“Please, of course I do, you’ve seen yourself.” 

Bruce smiled softly and ran a hand down Clark’s solid chest.

“You are too, you know. With all your chimera killing muscle.” Bruce rested his chin on Clark’s right pec as Clark laughed.

“That thing was vicious. It singed one of my eyebrows off.”

“You were lopsided for a month.” Bruce agreed. The air was tense now, Clark hyperaware of every breath Bruce took. He turned his head. Gods Bruce was right there, his dark blue eyes half lidded, and looking at Clark like he held the key to eternity. Those bitten red lips were mere inches from his face, so close Clark would barely have to move and…. Suddenly Clark was surging up towards Bruce, capturing those lips with his own, his hand moving to cup Bruce’s head in his palm. Bruce moaned as Clark pulled him on top of himself, his hands clutching in Clark’s shirt. Clark bit lightly at Bruce’s lips, which made Bruce shiver and clutch Clark’s shirt tighter. Clark ran his tongue along the seam of Bruce’s lips, and Bruce opened his mouth, letting Clark in. Clark plunged his tongue inside Bruce’s mouth, sweeping across his pallet. Bruce whimpered into the kiss, and Clark pulled him closer. The kiss lasted several heated minutes before Clark was finally pulling away. 

“Is now a bad time to tell you that I’ve been in love with you for a ridiculously long time?” He whispered. Bruce laughed and kissed him again lightly.

“I think maybe earlier might’ve been better, but now is fine too.” 

Clark grinned, “Ok.” With one hand still tangled in Bruce’s hair, Clark let his other hand trail down Bruce’s back, until it was resting on his lower back. Clark splayed his hand out wide, it covered most of Bruce’s lower back, and pushed down, forcing Bruce’s groin against Clark’s. Bruce gasped into the kiss, his eyes squeezing shut as Clark ground up into him. Clark’s hand moved lower, under jean and boxers, and he squeezed the perfect supple flesh of Bruce’s ass. He thrust roughly against Bruce, loving the punched out little gasps Bruce let out as a result. Clark’s hand slipped under Bruce’s shirt, and trailed around his waist until it was resting on Bruce’s stomach. Clark’s hand slid steadily lower, sliding under his boxers and gripping his cock. Bruce choked on his next breath, and lowered his head to Clark’s chest, breathing rough and ragged. 

“You like that baby?” Clark breathed in Bruce’s ear, kissing lightly beneath it. Bruce’s breath hitched. 

“Yeah,” He moaned, voice high and tight. Clark grinned, kissing his way down Bruce’s neck. His other hand finally moved down to join the one squeezing and stroking Bruce’s cock. He opened Bruce’s jeans, and shoved them down along with his underwear. He spit in his hand and was back to stroking Bruce, hand getting steadily rougher, until finally he flicked the head with his thumb and and Bruce came with a choked off scream that he muffled in Clark’s neck. Bruce lay panting on top of Clark, who was grinning ear to ear. He pulled his jeans back up carefully, and sat back on Clark’s rock hard cock. He looked down at Clark’s come covered shirt, before tsking and pulling it up and off Clark’s head. He smiled and ran his hands up and down Clark’s chest.

“You’re so hot, I honestly think I might die.” Bruce laughed, running blunt fingernails over Clark’s eight pack. Clark snorted, and tugged insistently at Bruce’s shirt. Bruce laughed and pulled it up and over his head. Then his smile grew wicked and he ground his ass back into Clark’s cock. Clark groaned, tossing his head back, exposing a strong white throat. Bruce kissed down Clark’s chest, rocking his ass back and forth on Clark’s massive boner. Before Clark could get any relief, however, Bruce let up. Clark made an annoyed sound as Bruce moved away from his cock, only to let out a squeak of surprise when he felt hot breath against the crotch of his jeans. His head snapped up and he looked down at Bruce, who was grinning and placing filthy kisses against the denim. 

“Oh my gods, you are so fucking sexy Bruce.” Clark moaned, thrusting up against Bruce’s face. Clark seldom cursed, and when he did now it send a wave of heat through Bruce. He licked his lips and undid the button on Clark’s jeans. He pulled the zipper down slowly, giving a kiss to the exposed underwear. Clark made an impatient sound, so Bruce gently shimmied the jeans and boxers down Clark’s hips, exposing a massive angry looking cock. Bruce stared wide-eyed at Clark’s erect cock. It was easily one of the biggest Bruce had ever seen.

“You’re huge,” Bruce gasped. Clark chuckled darkly.

“You bet baby, now are you going to get to the sucking or what?” 

Bruce nipped Clark’s hipbone in retaliation, causing Clark’s hips to jump slightly, before going back to Clark’s cock. Bruce started by suckling lightly on the head, then he slipped just the head into his mouth and sucked hard. Clark gasped, his hips jerking. Bruce could tell he was trying to keep himself still, keep himself from choking Bruce, but it was barely working. Bruce licked around the entirety of the head, before taking all of Clark down in one go. Clark’s cock hit the back of his throat, and there was still some left over. Bruce spit into his hand and used it to massage the part he couldn’t reach with his mouth. He started bobbing up and down, spit gathering in the corners of his mouth. Clark was biting on his wrist to keep from shouting, moans and groans making their way past his mouth. Bruce took Clark’s cock all the way to the back of his throat and Clark bit off a scream, his other hand came up to the back of Bruce’s head, gripping tight in his hair, as he started to fuck Bruce’s face. Bruce moaned, the vibrations reaching up Clark’s cock, shooting pleasure down his spine. He fucked up roughly into Bruce’s mouth, not letting up for a moment. He could feel the pressure building in the pit of his stomach. Finally, he shoved Bruce’s face down as far as it would go, and shot deep into Bruce’s throat. He pulled out before he was finished, the last of his come shooting up and hitting Bruce in the face. Clark let go of Bruce and lay back, panting. Bruce rested his head on Clark’s thigh. Finally Clark sat up, his hands going up to cup Bruce’s face. He pulled Bruce’s face up until Bruce was looking straight at him, and his cock twitched, trying valiantly to get hard again. Bruce was covered in his come. Although he must have swallowed at least half of it, it was still all over his face. There was come on his cheek, smeared all over his mouth, big globs of it resting in his eyelashes. Clark groaned at the sight of him. He wiped at the come on Bruce’s cheek, smearing it into skin, some of it coming off on his fingers. He stared at his fingers for a moment before looking back at Bruce.

“Open,” He said. Bruce opened his mouth obediently (and gods didn’t that make little Clark happy), and Clark gently stuck his fingers in Bruce’s mouth. Bruce moaned around the digits, his eyes closing as he sucked the come off of Clark’s fingers. When Bruce finally let Clark remove his fingers, Clark grabbed his own shirt, since it was already covered in come, and balled it up.

“Close your eyes,” Clark said gently. Bruce obediently closed his eyes and let Clark wipe the come off his face. Clark let his shirt drop next to him in the grass, and laid back, pulling Bruce with him. Bruce slid his hips gently off of Clark, and pulled up and rebuttoned Clark’s pants. Then he laid down next to him, resting his head and hand on Clark’s chest. Bruce shut his eyes, content to listen to Clark’s breathing. 

“Hey,” Clark whispered, it seemed like the kind of situation that warranted a whisper. 

“Hm?” Bruce murmured from where he was falling asleep on Clark. Clark’s hand came up to start stroking through Bruce’s dark hair. 

“I kind of love you.” He said, like it was a revelation. Even though he’d already known, even though he’d just told Bruce a little while ago. Clark could feel Bruce smile against his skin.

“I kind of love you too.” Bruce replied. Clark gazed up into the stars, and was content.


	3. Ares

Jason waited at the door, he’d knocked a moment ago, and he could hear voices inside. It took a moment, but eventually the door opened. A boy stood there, he was just barely shorter than Jason, and not nearly as thick, but his arms seemed to be pure muscle. There was an intense look on his face, and a clear distrust in the shifting of his gray eyes.

“Greg Clemson, Ares cabin counselor. You are?”

“Jason Todd, recently revealed son of Ares,” Jason replied. Greg eyed him for a moment longer before nodding and opening the door wider.

“Welcome to casa de Ares, where everyone wins at arm wrestling, and the bathrooms are disgusting.” He said, gesturing wide. There were less than a dozen kids inside, each sitting on their own bunk, with several more empty and neatly made beds lying nearby.

“Newbie?” A girl in shorts and an oversized t-shirt asked from where she was reading a book so thick it could only be the Art of War. Jason would be honestly shocked if it wasn’t.

“Yup, fresh from Crime Alley, Gotham. Do you guys have a shower?” Jason asked. T-shirt girl motioned to a door at the back of the cabin.

“Awesome,” Jason said, mind wandering to the wonders of hot showers. It’d been awhile since he’d had one.

“I’m Jason Todd.” He said. Introductions went around, t-shirt girl’s name was Lily Oswald.

“Do you have any stuff?” Greg asked, shutting the door behind himself. Jason shook his head.

“Nope, I’m probably going to need more clothes.” Greg nodded.

“You can borrow some of Marcus’ stuff for now, we can ask Chiron about getting you some new clothes tomorrow.”

“Thanks man, you don’t know how much I appreciate this.” Jason said. Greg waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it, we’re family.” Jason was more warmed by that than he’d ever admit. He’d never had family before, it’d be nice to see what having one was like.

Jason got in the shower, basking in the wonderfulness of real life warm water. Jason hadn’t had a warm shower in close to a year, and it had been much longer since he’d been able to take a shower and not worry about being shanked. Jason washed his hair, twice, and scrubbed his entire body until his skin pinked. There were several bottles of shampoo laying around, one for each person he guessed, so he got his pick of scents. He hadn’t been this content in far too long. Jason stepped out of the shower, ruffling his hair dry, and poked his head out of the bathroom. The big black guy who’d introduced himself as Marcus, and was the only one in the room roughly Jason’s size, handed him a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Jason thanked him and went back inside where he pulled them on. He looked at himself in the mirror with a critical eye. He hadn’t seen himself in a few weeks, but he’s paid one of the hookers on his street to give him a haircut the week before, so his hair wasn’t too out of control. It was a bit longer than he usually liked it, but he had to admit that she’d done a good job. She’d told him to trust her, she had to look good for a living. Jason grabbed someone’s razor blade and popped in a new razor. He shaved the stubble off his cheeks carefully, and put the old razor back, then grabbed one of the brushes and brushed his hair into some semblance of order. He found an unopened toothbrush in one of the drawers beneath the sink and brushed his teeth three times, he even flossed. Jason looked back at himself and grinned. He was a handsome devil, if he did say so himself. He finally left the bathroom and got a wolf whistle from Lily.

“Damn Todd, you clean up nice.” She said, laughing a little.

“What can I say? I’m a damn fine son of a bitch.” Jason shot back. Lily cracked up, and Jason grinned. He liked these people, he’d decided. He didn’t mind thinking of them as family. What did he know about family anyway? If this was what family was supposed to be, then Jason would be more than glad to take it.

Greg walked back into the cabin, his face grim. He must have left some time during Jason’s shower.

“Oakley’s pyre’s going up in five. Come on guys.” Jason followed solemnly as he led them out toward the end of the U. He didn’t think he had anything to do with Oakley’s death, it wasn’t guilt that was driving him, but he’d kind of liked the man. He’d been cranky and sarcastic, and half goat, but he’d brought Jason here, to Camp Half-Blood. He’d given him something he could never have dreamed of, safety, and Jason would forever owe him for that. The pyre was a large elegant pile of wood with Oakley’s wrapped body resting atop it. Chiron appeared from the crowd holding a large flaming torch. He stabbed the torch into the pyre and it went up in flames, leaking ash and spitting white hot fire. Jason watched it burn for a few moment, his mind wandering to the cyclops who’d killed Oakley, when he felt a hand slip its way into his. He looked down to see Dick standing next to him, eyes red and wet. Jason squeezed his hand and said nothing. He didn’t know Oakley as well as these people did, he didn’t feel the same pain they did, but he could help them get through it. He could help Dick get through it. The pyre burned for a long time, and eventually people started to disperse. The majority of them seemed to be heading for the fire pit in the center of the U. They seemed to be telling stories about Oakley. Another chunk of people started toward what appeared to be training grounds. He felt a tug at his hand and looked down to see Dick looking up at him.

“Come with me.” He said, eyes still red but no longer leaking tears, and led Jason toward the woods. They didn’t walk for too long before reaching a small clearing in the forest. There was a slab of marble in the center of it, and atop it stood a gold plated telescope.

“Wow, what is this place?” Jason asked, wonder creeping into his voice. Dick laughed softly and tugged him toward the telescope.

“My dad told me about this place, he and his husband used to come here all the time.” Dick replied.

“Your dad?”  
  
“Bruce Wayne.”

“Wait, seriously? _The_ Bruce Wayne?” Jason asked, shocked beyond belief. _This_ was the circus boy Wayne had adopted years earlier, the poor little orphan who’d watched his parents fall to their deaths on the trapeze.

“You’re from Gotham?” Jason asked. All of a sudden it seemed like a very important question. Dick looked back from where he was adjusting the telescope with that adorable wrinkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, of course, why?”

“Because I am too!” Jason said, it was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He didn’t want to tell Dick what happened to him, where he was from. He didn’t want this gorgeous, rich, son of a goddess, adopted son of a billionaire to know that Jason was nothing but an ex-hooker and current dealer from the slums of Gotham. Dick looked too delighted at the prospect of meeting someone else from Gotham. He looked like nothing in the world could’ve made him happier.

“Really? Where are you from?” He asked. He was so hopeful, so _so_ hopeful. Jason didn’t want to crush his spirit, didn’t want him to know he was really talking to street trash.

“Um,” Jason looked away into the woods, his face screwing up in distaste. “Crime Alley.” He replied. He didn’t hear anything from Dick, and started to assume the worst when he felt small soft hands grab gently onto the fists he was making. Jason released his fists and Dick slipped both his hands inside Jason’s. He was looking straight at Jason now, a serious look in his intensely blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. It was just two words, two measly words, but they were said with such conviction, such honesty that Jason couldn’t help but think that they were the most beautiful words in the english language.

“Thanks,” He said. “It’s a shitty place, but it’s ok. I’m not there anymore.” He looked down at Dick, beautiful, gorgeous, impossibly kind Dick. “I’m here.” He said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Dick smiled wide, his eyes crinkling at the edges, joy obvious in his face. He was impossible, it was like the simplest things in the world made him happy. Jason barely knew him, and yet it felt like he’d known him forever.

“Damn you’re gorgeous.” Jason said. Dick laughed.

“Back at ya muscle man.” Dick replied. He tugged at Jason’s hands.

“Come on, I want to show you the telescope.” He tugged Jason onto the marble and pulled him up next to him. Dick bent down to look into the telescope, giving Jason a fantastic view of his ass. Jason was idly wondering how annoyed Dick would be if he gave it a hearty smack, when Dick leaned back and told Jason to look in. Jason closed one eye and leaned down to look inside.

“All I see are stars.” Jason said. Dick sighed not the least bit maliciously.

“It’s the Hercules constellation.” Dick said. Jason shook his head.

“Nope, sorry Dickiebird. All I’m seeing are stars.”

“That’s because you’re ridiculously uncultured.”  
  
“This is true.”

Dick laughed and sat back on the marble. Jason sat down next to him.

“It’s nice here right?” He asked. Jason nodded.

“Yeah, it’s a wonder you can ever get it to yourself.”

“Nobody really knows about it, just me, Chiron, my dad, a few other people. There’s almost never anyone here. I think I’m the only one who really uses it.” He replied. Jason didn’t miss the fact that this meant that he was probably one of the few, if not the only one, Dick had told about it.

“Why do you trust me so much?” Jason asked suddenly. Dick shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just feel like I can, like I should.”

“Do you trust everyone so easily?” Jason asked, slightly amused.

“No, almost never. I’m Romani, you see. Descended from gypsies. Hell, I think you could probably actually consider me a gypsy to a degree, even though I obviously don’t believe in their religion. Anyway, I get feelings about people. My parents used to get them too, in fact most of the romani people I’ve known have gotten them. My step-mom used to say it was the gypsy intuition. She used to say that we could see what no one else did, that we could see straight through all the flesh and bone and blood and right into the soul. I didn’t really believe her until I found out I was a demigod. Now, if all this can be real, who’s to say gypsy intuition can’t be.” He turned to Jason, blue eyes standing out starkly in the night, almost like stars. “I get feelings about people Jason, and I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, like I should trust you with everything, so I’m going to.”

It was almost overwhelming, to know that Dick felt that way about him. To know that Dick trusted him that much, with that much. Jason had never trusted anyone in his entire life, not his parents, not his friends, not even Chiron, or Roy or Oakley. He didn’t know them well enough, he had never known anyone well enough to give them the kind of trust Dick was talking about, and yet here he was, trusting Dick.

“I think I feel the same way.” Jason replied. “I don’t know why, I can’t explain it, I just do. Since the moment I saw you.” It was true, he hadn’t been sure until he’d said it, but it was true, and it terrified him.

It made Dick smile.

They didn’t stay in the woods for very much longer after that. Dick told him there was a curfew at eleven, and they were getting dangerously close to breaking it. Mourning or not, curfew was always enforced. They headed back to the Ares cabin where they said a quick goodnight. Jason kissed Dick softly on the mouth, not the sort of kiss he really wanted to give him, but he wasn’t in any hurry.

He got his pick of bunks in the Ares cabin, so he picked the one closest to the door. He slept on a soft clean mattress with soft clean sheets, warm and content for the first time in close to four years. He still slept with his back to the wall, the lightest sounds still woke him, but he slept nine solid hours, more than he’d had in longer than he could remember. At eight the next morning there was a cabin inspection and when Greg finally let them out for breakfast, Jason looked around for Dick. He found him being harassed by Roy, and felt an unnatural jealousy spike through him. He had nothing to worry about and he knew it, Dick was into him, ridiculously into him, but seeing Roy shadow Dick with cheesy pick up lines and five too many inappropriate touches got Jason’s blood boiling. Jason stepped up behind him, slipping a hand in his back pocket, and pulling Dick tight against him. Roy looked more amused than anything, and smoothly transitioned from the half finished pickup line to a story about the antics of the Apollo cabin. The three of them grabbed food, and Dick showed them how to give a sacrifice to the gods. Jason tore his chunk of bread and tore off a few of his ribs and threw him into the fire, in his mind he made up a prayer for Ares.

_Hey Ares, uh, dad. So I know you just claimed me and all, but I’ve never really had a dad before, and I thought it might be nice to see you, at least once, I guess. I’ve heard the gods don’t really have time for their kids here, and hey no judgement, you guys are gods after all. But um, I guess it’d just be nice if I could meet you. Um, thanks._

His forehead wrinkled.

“Are we supposed to say amen?” He asked Dick suddenly, he had little to no idea how any organized religion worked. Dick looked at him a moment before bursting out laughing. Jason took that as a no.

Jason had a weird thing with food. It was born of years on the streets with never enough to eat, and the years before that struggling to get his parents to actually get him food. Roy and Dick didn’t have this problem, they were both eating theirs slowly, taking their time, leaving scraps, talking enthusiastically with flourishing hand motions the whole time. This behavior was born of a lifetime of living with plenty, with a full belly at night, and knowledge of where your next meal would come from. Jason, on the other hand, was hunched over his plate, arm circled protectively around his food as he practically inhaled it. He ate quickly, and he ate everything. He didn’t even leave a drop of barbeque sauce. He mopped it all up with his last remaining pieces of bread and ate every last bite. Neither Dick nor Roy really paid any attention to this odd behavior until Jason made a noise when Dick stood up with his plate. There was still a few grapes and a quarter of his bread left. It made Jason’s eye twitch.

“Jason? What’s wrong?” Dick asked. That ever present wrinkle between his eyes. Jason debated admitting what was wrong, but decided against it. That was a little too weird. He could be weird on his own, but he couldn’t drag Dick into it as well.

“Nothing,” He said, but Dick wasn’t buying it.

“Jason, it’s obviously something, what is it?” He asked again, putting his plate down and putting a hand on Jason’s arm.

“It’s just, are you going to finish that?” He asked. This was such a ridiculous hang up, Jason knew. He was better than this, he wasn’t a whiny little bitch, especially about something this trivial. Dick seemed to understand though, he got this look in his eyes like he knew exactly what Jason meant. He handed his plate to Jason, and sat right back down. Dick didn’t even question him, he just listened, and Jason loved it.

Jason was just finishing the scraps off of Dick’s plate, when Chiron galloped up to their table. His hooves clopped irritably at the ground.

“You three, come with me.”

He led them back to the Big House, through the living room and up to the second floor. A man with thick black hair and bright purple eyes was sitting on a couch in what appeared to be another living room. There was a pool table in the center of the room, with a half finished game left ignored. The man held a wine glass in his hand, but it was full of something dark brown and decidedly fizzy.

“Mr. Harper, Mr. Todd, this is Dionysus, you may call him Mr. D. He’s here because there’s been a theft on Olympus.” Chiron said stiffly. Dionysus took a long pull of his drink and looked at it mournfully for a moment before standing up and facing the three of them.

“Ok kiddos, here’s what happened. There’s this bitch, half woman, half spider, hates the everliving daylights out of Athena, her name’s Arachne. She stole poor baby Eros’ bow.” Dionysus started. Dick looked horrified, while Jason and Roy were just confused.

“Who’s Eros?” Jason asked.

“Cupid.” Dick replied.

“Right, winged kid with the bow that makes people love and or hate each other? Ringing a bell? Dick and Jason’s little half-brother. Son of Ares and Aphrodite?” Dionysus seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with each word of explanation he had to say. Jason nodded to get him to stop talking.

“Right, baby with wings and a love bow, got it.”

“Right, well matchmaker got his baby maker stolen by every tarantula's wet dream, and now she’s planning to use it to make every man in the world fall in love with her, and create an army of lovesick doofuses to destroy the gods.” He finished with a flourish of his hand and a large gulp of whatever was in his glass.

“Dear _Zeus_ how I miss whiskey.” He moaned, staring pitifully down at his glass. The house shook and the sky rumbled, but Dionysus didn’t seem to notice. “If I never drink another diet coke again it’ll be too soon.”

Jason thought this was probably an inappropriate time to laugh. Chiron sighed and turned back to them.

“We’ve decided this requires a quest. The gods can’t find Arachne, which means the demigods have to. We’ve chosen you three because Apollo has,” he rolled his eyes here. “ _suggested_ it. So, Mr. Todd, you are to go to the attic and ask the Oracle for a prophecy.” Chiron said. Jason eye twitched, he was a thousand percent done with Chiron’s lack of details.

“How, exactly, do I ask the Oracle for a prophecy?” Jason asked. Dionysus rolled his eyes.

“For the love of Zeus kid, just ask!” The house shook again, and the thunder was louder this time. Dionysus sighed and looked heavenward.

“Well it’s not like I can say god, now can I?” He snapped, the thunder rumbled almost petulantly. Chiron looked entirely too long suffering as he turned back to Jason.

“Just ask, she will tell you.”

Jason nodded. He felt Dick slip his hand in his and squeeze. Jason squeezed back lightly and walked up the stairs to the attic. There wasn’t much in there, some old trinkets, and what looked like a mummy sitting in a chair in the back of the room. Jason tried not to think about why they needed a mummy before looking around the room. There was nobody there. Jason thought about what Dionysus had just done to talk to Zeus, and looked heavenward.

“Oracle, do you have a prophecy for me?” He asked, feeling a bit like an idiot. Nothing happened for a moment, and then the mummy opened it’s mouth. Jason stared in grotesque wonder as green smoke spewed from the gaping black hole of her mouth, and a cracked and scratchy voice began to speak. It was horrible to listen to, a repulsive grating sound that made Jason’s nerves stand on end.

 

_“Three children, the sons of lovers and the sun,  
_ _First three challenges they must face,  
_ _Trial by fire, water, and by land  
_ _Then finally to the queen of wicked, and the master of grudge they must appear  
_ _Recover the weapon of love and hate  
_ _Three will go, two will return  
_ _Children of lovers beware the mistakes of lovers past”_

 

She hissed each word, and it felt like knifes were slowly sliding down Jason’s back. She started to repeat the prophecy. She kept repeating it over and over; Jason stayed until he had it memorized. He walked back down the stairs, white as a sheet. Dick hurried over to him, worry etched into every inch of his skin.

“What happened?” He asked.

“She gave me a prophecy.” Jason replied.

“What’d she say?” Chiron asked. Jason repeated the prophecy word for word. Dionysus and Chiron exchanged meaningful stares, and Chiron cleared his throat before looking back at where Dick stood clutching Jason’s arm.

“Well I think it’s safe to say the _sons of lovers_ are you two, and the son of the sun is Mr. Harper. It would seem Apollo was correct.”

“When isn’t he.” Dionysus muttered darkly. His cup seemed to drink itself and he cursed a blue streak. It refilled itself a moment later, but Dionysus still had a sour look on his face.

“Trials by elements rarely concern me, I’m sure you three can handle it, and obviously your goal is to stop Arachne and retrieve the bow. It’s the last two lines that worry me.” He muttered. Jason’s eye started to twitch again. He idly wondered if he was developing a habit.

“Yeah, it kinda concerns me too!” He snapped. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want Roy to die, and sure as fucking hell didn’t want _Dick_ to die. That was ridiculous and flat out couldn’t happen. Jason was pretty sure he’d lose his mind if Dick died. No, he was one hundred percent certain he’d lose his mind.

“I don’t want to die! And I’m not about to let them die!” He shouted. Dionysus gave him a flat look.

“Well what do you propose then, mister hero?” He asked. Jason scoffed.

“We don’t go on the quest! We ignore the prophecy; we can’t die if it we never go through with it.”

Dionysus did not look like he approved of this plan, at all. For that matter neither did Chiron.

“Mr. Todd, I’m afraid you can’t just ignore a prophecy. Once given, it _will_ come true, it’s not a matter of whether or not you’ll let it, and I must say, prophecy aside, we can’t let Arachne keep the bow. She will hurt people, she will kill the gods. We can’t let her continue this.” Chiron said.

“But-” Jason protested weakly. Dionysus cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Besides kid, the fates are notoriously fickle bitches. If they want you dead, you will die, one way or another. Once they snip your string, that’s it, you’re snipped. Whichever of you whose lifeline the fates just cut, is going to die, at the exact time you’re meant to. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking down Arachne, or ignoring your quest and drinking a mojito in Tahiti, you’ll die. A coconut will drop on your head or some shit. It doesn’t matter where you are, what you’re doing, you’re _dead_ . That’s _it_. At least this way, if you go on the quest, you might do enough good to earn Elysium. Trust me, if you’re dead, that’s where you’ll want to go. It’s either that or a field in Kansas for eternity, so trust me kid, go on the fucking quest.” Dionysus was firm, more so that Jason had seen him be so far. More than that, he made sense. If one of them was already dead, then that was it, no hope left. Might as well go out in a blaze of glory. All Jason could do now was hope to the gods it wasn’t Dick.

“Fine, let it go on record that I hate this plan, but fine.” He snapped. It didn’t matter what happened now, this was it, they were going.

+++

Jason had made his way back to the clearing in the forest. When they’d finished the meeting at the Big House, Dionysus had made a flashy and vaguely pissed exit. Chiron had instructed Dick, Jason and Roy to go pack, which they all left to do. Jason had dropped Dick off at the Aphrodite house with a distracted kiss, and walked right past the Ares cabin. He’d just found this new home, this new family, he’d just found _Dick_. He didn’t want to leave now. He didn’t want to die and never come back. More than that though, he didn’t want to come back without Dick. If anything was unacceptable, that was it.

Jason ran his finger along the telescope. He was glad Dick had shown it to him. It was a memory he could take with him if he died. Jason sighed and looked heavenward.

“Dad, if you’re out there, I’d kinda like to meet you once before I die. I’m tired of losing people, and I’m in this really shitty situation that you probably know about already. I’d just like to be able to talk to you before I march off to my possible death at the hands of arachnophobia incarnate.” He said, voice slightly bitter. When nothing happened Jason sighed and hung his head, defeated. He turned around, ready to head back to camp and pack when he saw him. There was a man standing in front him. Huge, tall, built like the Rock, thick black hair, fair skin. He wore a leather biker jacket, pitch black sunglasses, and thick heavy boots, he looked impossibly like Jason.

“Ares?” Jason asked, astonished. He hadn’t really expected an answer to his desperate plea for a father.

“Yeah, kid, it’s me.”

Jason was suddenly unfathomably angry. How dare this man, who’d never been there for any of Jason’s many, _many_ hardships show up only now, when Jason was practically on his knees begging?

“What the hell man?” Jason shouted. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to shout at a god, or your father, and especially when your father was both. Ares just chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. He wouldn’t quite look at Jason, preferring instead to look into the trees.

“I know I’ve missed a lot, Jason. I know what your childhood was like. Believe it or not, I actually did watch out for you.” He seemed to collect himself now. “Zeus decreed a long time ago that the gods aren’t really supposed to have contact with their children. He let me this once because you might die and I’m his son, but trust me Jason, if I could have been there, I would have.”

Jason would never know. He’d never know about the rapists who’d met unfortunate ends before they got to Jason’s end of the street. He’d never know about the addicts who’d OD’d before they could Jason further hooked. He’d never know about the pimps, and johns, and useless social workers who died in car crashes or horrible freak accidents after hurting a small dark haired little boy. He’d never know what happened to Catherine and Willis Todd, or even what happened to the wickedly crooked Sheila Haywood, a woman Ares had actually cared for once. Jason would never know what happened to all these people for what they’d done to him. He’d never know how much worse it could have been.

He’d never know, probably.

“Well you weren’t there, _dad_ , so why the hell are you here now? Because I might die? Because you feel bad you’d probably never have known me if it wasn’t for the axe hanging over my head?” Jason shouted back. Ares forced himself to be patient with Jason. He knew what life had been like for his poor little boy, he never wanted Jason to have to face it again. He’d smuggle Jason into Olympus himself if it meant Jason never had to see Crime Alley again.

“I know what you think of me, and I know it’s not in my power to disprove it. There’s nothing I can do about the past, Jason, but there’s something I can do about the future.” Two pistols appeared in Ares’ hands. They were sleek, elegant and beautiful. Jason stepped forward curiously.

“These are magic pistols. I had to pull several favors with Hephaestus to get him to even _think_ about making these for me, we don’t really get along as you may or may not know, but he made them. They’re specially made so that they can kill anything. Anything from a minotaur to a god, these things’ll put ‘em down. I may not be able to keep you from getting killed, but I can make damn sure you’re as difficult to kill as possible.” He said, a fierce conviction in his voice as he handed Jason the guns.

“They’ll never run out of ammunition, and they have their own built in mist.”

“Mist?” Jason asked.

“It’s like a veil. It’s what keeps mortals from being able to see monsters or gods running through the street. Nobody can see theses guns that you don’t want to see them.”

Jason grinned as he took the guns. He weighed them in his hands. Unlike Oakley’s sword they were perfect for him. Not too light, not too heavy, not clumsy, and without the voice in the back of his head screaming _wrong!_ No, these were undoubtedly meant for Jason, and no one else. Jason looked up at Ares, who had a proud look on his face.

“Thank you.” Jason said. Ares grinned.

“Of course kid,” He seemed to be ready to leave, but before he did, he stopped and looked back at Jason.

“Oh, and about that Aphrodite kid, Grayson I think his name was? I approve Jason, I really approve.” He had an almost self satisfied look on his face. “It runs in the family.” He said finally, cracking out a booming laugh.

“I love you, kid, don’t forget it, ok?” He said finally, face light and devoid of anything but pride and happiness. Jason smiled.

“Yeah, got it. Love you too, dad.” Then Ares was gone in a wicked blaze of fire, and Jason was once again alone in the forest. Well, not entirely alone. He looked down at the pistols in his hands. Ares had given him a weapon, not just any weapon, but an entirely too kick ass pair of pistols that could kill anything. Jason grinned; Arachne was going to eat grave dirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that obviously guns aren't ancient greek weapons, and probably have no place in this kind of story, but also Jason is Red Hood. Red Hood uses guns, so this Jason uses guns. I did say I was going to be taking some liberties with Greek mythology after all.


	4. Hecate

It had been nearly two years since Bruce and Clark had hooked up in the clearing in the woods. They were famously dating now, the son of Zeus and the son of Athena, it was the subject of plenty of gossip over at the Aphrodite cabin. Bruce thought the gossip was a little overzealous, however. The fact of the matter was, he and Clark just weren’t very interesting. At least, not in that sense. They didn’t cheat on each other, they never flirted with anyone else, they were more or less completely devoted to each other. Wally had called them sickening more than once. As a couple, they just weren’t all that interesting. As fighters on the other hand, well, there were already legends about the things they’d done when they were younger. Chimeras, homicidal mermaids, minotaurs, they’d faced everything. Bruce was starting to get tired of it. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like fighting besides Clark, it wasn’t that he thought they were doing something wrong, it was more that with every new feat, Clark grew surer and surer that he would become a god one day soon. He talked about it nearly every day, how he was going to be one of the greats, like Hercules or Achilles. He talked about a place in the stars, a name forever remembered in history books, statues erected in his image. The only thing he didn’t talk about was Bruce’s place in all of it. Bruce wasn’t so insecure as to think that Clark was deliberately forgetting about him, deliberately ignoring Bruce’s assistance and his role in all of Clark’s conquests, but he did believe that Clark had honestly forgotten him. Bruce didn’t think it was so much that Clark was deliberately leaving him out, as he was simply forgetting that Bruce had been a part of any of it. He always talked about Bruce as his partner in crime, but then when he retold the stories to the younger campers, Bruce would have to remind Clark of when he himself had done something, otherwise Clark forgot about it. Bruce wondered if it was a hero thing. After all, all great heroes had a fatal flaw. Achilles’ was his pride, Orpheus’ was doubt, Hercules’ was lust. All great heroes had a flaw, and Bruce thought that Clark’s flaw, much like Achilles’, was pride. Of course, Bruce found Clark’s confidence attractive, he did not, however, find his forgetfulness very attractive at all. 

Clark wanted to be a god, Bruce understood that, but he didn’t seem to realize that gods and mortals couldn’t be together. At least, Bruce hoped he didn’t realize that. It would be worse if he knew and was just ignoring it. It would be worse because that would mean that being a god was more important to Clark than Bruce was.

Bruce watched from his place on the beach as Clark pulled a boat full of sacks of flour across the sand. Bruce idly sipped at his smoothie and enjoyed the view. It seemed like Clark was always doing some kind of weird or insane exercise.

“Watch the rocks sweetie,” Bruce called with a mocking smile. Clark shot him an amused glare. Bruce just went back to his smoothie. He couldn’t stop Clark from completing all these trials, he wouldn’t. He just worried about what would happen when Clark finished them.

Clark dropped the boat in the sand and stood back from it. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and he was panting slightly. He turned and grinned at Bruce. Before he knew it, Clark was across the beach, throwing Bruce over his shoulder.

“What the hell Clark? Put me down! You’re disgusting!” Bruce protested. Clark let out a booming laugh, and Bruce felt a smack on his ass. 

“No can do babe, sorry.” Clark started to carry Bruce up the beach, back towards the camp, with Bruce complaining the whole time about getting Clark stink all over him. Clark was half way back to camp when John approached him with a grim look on his face. Clark set Bruce down, who brushed himself off, spitting curses at Clark, but Clark’s eyes were on John. 

“What happened?” He asked. Bruce finally looked up, immediately grasping the tension of the situation.

“It’s Hecate. She’s making herself an army of witches. She wants to kill the gods, and she’s killing everyone who gets in her way.” John grimaced. “Chiron wants you down at the big house. I think he’s going to send you in for another prophecy.” Clark nodded, face grim. He glanced at Bruce and held out his hand. Bruce took it, and together they walked hand in hand toward the Big House.

“Do you think this’ll be it?” Clark asked. He seemed nervous and excited at the same time. Bruce grimaced. “I mean, I’m almost seventeen now, there’s not much longer I can stay here, and most of the other heroes were legends before they were twenty.” 

Bruce was silent for a moment, honestly contemplating. He didn’t want this to be it. He didn’t want this to be the last time he ever saw Clark. Clark was Bruce’s whole world. His father and step-mother had been murdered in front of him when he was eight. His real mother was a goddess he’d only spoken to once, and only ever seen a handful of times. Despite his comadre with John, Wally and Diana, he didn’t really have any real friends. He liked them, sure. He’d talk to them, fight beside them, but he could never trust them completely, at least not yet. Bruce was a paranoid person. He’d been dealt the shitty hand of fate ten too many times, and he didn’t really have anybody, nobody he trusted at least. There were only two people in the entire universe that Bruce trusted. He trusted Alfred, the Wayne butler and the man who’d more or less raised him, and he trusted Clark. Clark the love of his life, his companion in battle, and his best friend. Bruce would be lost without him, he’d be broken.

“I don’t know Clark,” Bruce replied carefully. “Maybe, but you’re still only sixteen. That’s still four years to go before you’re twenty.” Four years of pitiful hope for Bruce.

“Yeah, but think about it Bruce, this isn’t just some minotaur, or a chimera or two. This is a god! Hecate! The mother of all witches. This almost  _ has _ to be it.” Clark enthused. Bruce swallowed hard. 

“Yeah, you’re right. This isn’t some ordinary walk in the park monster hunt, this is divinity. I don’t know Clark, maybe this is it. Maybe this is how you become a god.” Clark beamed down at Bruce. Bruce flushed red and looked away. He wondered if it made him a monster to hope that the love of his life didn’t achieve his lifelong goal. Probably. It was selfish for sure, but despite the divine  blood running through his veins, Bruce was still human. He was mortal, he had mortal fears and hopes. He might be selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He thought most people would be in his situation. 

“I mean, you do still want to be a god, right?” Bruce asked suddenly. He knew what Clark would say, but he didn’t want to hear it. 

Clark just looked at him like he was crazy. “Yeah, of course.” He said, like he was baffled Bruce would even ask such a question. Bruce bit his lip.

“Right, yeah, of course, it’s just…” He trailed off. “This is it, you know? Immortality. No more dinners at the dining pavilion, no more late night rendezvous at the clearing.” He bit his lip, unsure about what he wanted to say next. “No more me.” He muttered, face wrinkling in distaste at his own vulnerability. He was a son of Athena, he didn’t do this kind of shit. Clark looked at him like he’d grown a third head. He stopped right in front of the Aphrodite house and stared at Bruce.

“Don’t be ridiculous Bruce, of course I’ll see you.” Clark said, like it was just that simple. Maybe it was, but history said otherwise. 

“Have you ever seen the Hercules movie? The Disney one?” Bruce asked. He used to watch it regularly with his father. He didn’t realize why they’d watched it so often until Alfred had told him his true parentage after his father died.

“Yeah, of course. Why- Oh.” Clark sighed in annoyance.

“Don’t be so paranoid Bruce, that isn’t going to happen. That was a stupid cartoon, this is real life. The gods won’t keep you from me. First of all, you’re a demigod, not a mortal like Megara. Second of all, they just wouldn’t. You’ve helped me on every quest I’ve ever been on. They won’t do that to you.” Clark said, sounding incredibly sure. It was a good argument, Bruce thought he was probably right, but something deep inside, some intuition, told him Clark was wrong. Maybe it was the demigod blood running through his veins, maybe it was because he was a child of Athena and prided himself on being pragmatic logical, but he knew immediately that Clark was wrong.

“Right, of course. Ignore me, I’m just being paranoid.” Bruce said, his voice slightly strained. Clark smiled and squeezed his hand, perfectly ready to let Bruce’s seemingly momentary lapse in sanity go ignored. 

When they finally reached the Big House, Clark squeezed Bruce’s hand once before letting go and making his way inside. Bruce followed less enthusiastically. Dionysus was reclining on a sofa drinking a wine glass full of diet coke as per usual, and Chiron was pacing the length of the first floor sitting room, his hooves clomping loudly against the wood. They looked up when Bruce and Clark entered. Dionysus sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“If it isn’t Hercules lite.” He groaned. Bruce prickled at his tone, but they’d both long since gotten used to Dionysus’ particular flavor of bitter. “All right meathead, here’s the low down. Hecate’s off her rocker. She’s building an army of pissed off witches and warlocks to kill us all. She’s going after the gods first, then the demigods. She wants to rule humanity apparently. Typical psycho supervillain bullshit. Anyway, we need you to ask mist face up there for a prophecy. Of course you’re going on a quest, and obviously lean mean and bitch face over there is going to be your partner. Now, vamoose pretty boy.” Without further adue, Clark climbed the stairs to the second floor, and then to the attic. Bruce stared after him, nervously biting his lip.

“He’ll be fine kid.” Dionysus said, taking a long pull of his diet coke. “Zeus what I wouldn’t give for some wine.” He muttered. Outside thunder boomed, but Dionysus just ignored it. Bruce couldn’t help himself, he started pacing. Pacing, biting his lip, running his hand through his hair. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, they’d been through this same process dozens of times. Maybe it was because of potential of this quest. If Clark succeeded, if he killed Hecate and saved the gods, hell, the world, it would be more than he’d ever done. It would be his crowning achievement. It would be the Hector to Clark’s Achilles. The Cerberus to his Hercules. Zeus would make him a god, and Bruce would be stuck as a mortal. 

After Bruce had finally started to finger his sword, Chiron put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Calm yourself Bruce, Clark will be fine.” 

“I know Chiron, I’m not worried about that. Clark could kill anything that came his way.” 

Chiron raised an eyebrow. “Then what’s bothering you?” He asked. Bruce had known Chiron a long time. He didn’t consider him even close to the father figure he saw Alfred as, but he did care about him, and he listened to his advice. 

“When Clark kills Hecate, Zeus will make him a god.” Bruce said, matter of factly. He didn’t say anything else, but Chiron’s seemed to understand. His eyes grew sad, but he nodded all the same.

“You worry that if dear Mr. Kent becomes a god, he will forget about you.” It wasn’t a question. “The divine do have a way of letting the menial slip their minds.” 

“I know how these stories end, Chiron, I’m not a fool. This is important to Clark, which means it’s important to me, but I-” He cut himself off, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t want him to leave.” He said finally. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Bad? No. Human? Yes.” Chiron replied, sympathy crowding his voice. “But that’s all any of us can be, Bruce. Even the gods have human flaws. Just because they’re immortal, doesn’t mean they’re immune to pettiness. How many wars have been waged, how many lives lost, in the face of the jealousy or greed of the gods? Think of the Trojan War. Have you forgotten what started it? Jealously, my boy. The goddesses all competing for the title of fairest.” Chiron paused, seeming to consider his next point. “And what’s true for gods is true for their children. What drove Achilles to fight to his death? To let the life leave him before he was actually dead? Sorrow over the death of his beloved Patroclus. Sorrow which turned to hate. Do not disregard these feelings Bruce, learn from them.” Chiron said. Bruce’s lips thinned. He didn’t like the selfish anger that turned his stomach. Anger not at Clark for being a hero, but at Zeus, for taking what was Bruce’s. 

Bruce didn’t reply to Chiron, and so they waited in silence.

It wasn’t long after that when Clark jogged down the stairs, a lingering look of distaste in his eyes. Neither of them liked the Oracle. Clark was always the one to ask for the prophecies, since the feats were always ultimately his, but Bruce had tagged along once or twice, and seen the full fog effect. It was disturbing and rather unnecessary if you asked Bruce.

“What did she say?” Chiron asked. Dionysus stood up from the couch. Clark gave them a look Bruce couldn’t quite decipher. He seemed more or less happy, but he also looked a little like he’d swallowed something unexpectedly sour. 

“She said,  _ The son of lightning must travel high and low  _

_ To retrieve the sword of the son of Thetis  _

_ He will face doubt and death _

_ He must face the bastard children of Hecate, and deny the temptation of the sea _

_ He will retrieve the sword and fight the mother herself  _

_ With this feat of strength and valor will he finally achieve his fate  _

_ Beware son of lightning, for a tainted victory is no victory at all.” _ Clark repeated the prophecy word for word. Like most of the prophecies that came Clark’s way, it was vague but promised glory. However, unlike the prophecies that had come before it, this one ended on a sour note. 

“How could a victory be tainted?” Bruce asked. Clark shook his head, obviously at a loss. Chiron seemed ruffled, which was worrying. Chiron was never ruffled. Bruce was already running through possibilities in his head. The most likely scenario was that one of them would die, and if the prophecy said that Clark would achieve his fate, then the one going to Hades was probably Bruce. Bruce kept this theory to himself, however. After all it was just a theory, and he didn’t know what Clark would do if he were to hear it. Bruce discovered, rather unsurprisingly, that he was perfectly fine with dying for Clark’s cause. If Clark were to become a god, it’s not like he’d see Bruce again anyway. At least this way Bruce wouldn’t have to make Clark chose between him and divinity. At least this way he wouldn’t have to see Clark chose divinity. 

“Oh who cares? You’ve got your mission boyscout.” Dionysus said. “Worry about tainted victory when you get to it. Besides, a victory’s still a victory and I count that as a win. Now, Butch, Sundance, go pack. You have a big day ahead of you, chop chop!” Dionysus ushered them out the door, waving extravagantly and managing not to spill a single drop of diet coke the entire time. Once outside Clark ran his fingers through his hair and huffed. 

“I don’t know about this one Bruce.” He said. Privately, Bruce agreed. But it didn’t matter. This was Clark’s ticket to fame. This is what would give him that so sought after place in history. 

“It doesn’t matter Clark. People are dying, Hecate is killing them. We can’t leave that be and you know it. Now come on, we have to pack. Besides, didn’t you hear the Oracle? She said you’ll finally achieve your fate. You’ll be a god! You can’t give that up because the prophecy sounds sketchy.” No matter how much Bruce wished he would. Clark sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right. As usual. Okay egghead, let’s go pack.” Clark grinned. Bruce smiled back. He leaned up on his tippy toes and pecked Clark lightly on the cheek. Then his hand shot out and he gripped Clark’s balls in a killer vice. Clark squeaked and his eyes watered. Bruce leaned really close to his face.

“Call me egghead again, and I’ll let the next chimera make barbeque out of you.” He pecked Clark lightly on the lips and let him go.  “Now, you heard Dionysus, chop chop! We have witches to slay and temptations of the sea to deny!” With that Bruce strode away. Clark rolled his eyes and briefly wondered how this was the man he’d ended up with, before jogging to catch up with Bruce. 


	5. Fire Challenge

Jason got up early the next morning. The night before, after he had returned from his talk with Ares, he’d found a new belt lying across his bed that had holsters built into it for his guns. The belt had, of course, fit perfectly, and when he’d strapped in the guns he’d instantly felt different. Just holding them in his hands gave Jason a rush of unspeakable power, a feeling of rightness that just didn’t compare to anything he’d ever felt before. Jason loved it. 

When he’d finished packing and gearing up, he’d gone outside to try and find Dick and Roy. He’d found Roy waiting for him by the Big House, but Dick was nowhere to be found. After a few moments of impatient waiting, Jason had gone to the Aphrodite cabin and knocked on the door. A tall hispanic girl with waves of perfectly curled hair had opened the door. She’d raised an eyebrow at his gruff looks and her nose had wrinkled in distaste. 

“I’m looking for Dick.” Jason said. The girl barked out a laugh.

“Well guapo, you’ve come to the right place. Vamos, come inside.” She motioned him in; it was like entering a different world. It was picture perfect. Everything was pink and blue and green, covered in lace and white trim. The room was admittedly beautiful, much like the people it housed, but it still made Jason feel distinctly uncomfortable. The people who looked up when he walked in all looked utterly different, but were also easily the most attractive people Jason had ever seen. It was like walking into a modeling convention. Despite the fact that the facial features of both the boys and the girls varied from distinctly masculine to beautifully effeminate, each one, no matter what, looked like some kind of model. Jason guessed the range of features was strategic to appeal to a range of different people.

The house was mostly immaculate, but each private bunk held a splash of personality. Some held sports posters, some held bulletin boards full of pictures of smiling and laughing friends. Some were beyond messy, and some were so organized Jason wondered if anyone was actually living in them. One thing was common amongst all the bunks, under each bed there were boxes full of chocolates, and love notes. Some of the notes were heavily creased and held signs of multiple readings (Jason wondered if they sat around at night and giggled about how much other people loved them), and some were obviously unread. The chocolates were almost entirely uneaten.

The hispanic girl led Jason over to a bunk that could only be Dick’s. There was a large poster for the Flying Grayson’s pinned above his bed, along with a mix of photos of different people. On his bedside table stood a single frame encasing a photo of a smiling family, a mother, a father, and a little dark haired boy. Jason knew these people had to be Dick’s parents. Next to it sat a similar picture frame, this one with three men in it. One was a handsome, powerful looking man with dark hair and aristocratic features who looked vaguely like Dick if you tilted your head just so, and the other was an aging man with salt and pepper hair and a prim look about him. Jason sort of recognized the younger man, who was smiling wide, blue eyes seeming to laugh at whoever was taking the picture. He was Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham and Dick’s adoptive father. The other man in the photo, the older one, had a raised eyebrow and had an incredibly dry look about him, despite the slight tilt of his lips that said he too was smiling. Dick stood in between them, not much older than in the picture with his parents. He was smiling massively and unabashedly, and holding the hands of both his guardian and what was possibly a grandparent, though Jason was fairly certain both of Bruce Wayne’s parents were dead. He smiled at the picture, glad Dick had somebody after his parents deaths. Jason himself knew first hand what happened when you didn’t have anybody. He looked around the rest of Dick’s bunk space. There were some comic books tucked away along with regular books, and Dick’s boxes of notes and gifts were near overflowing, far more than anyone else’s Jason had seen. He was also amused to note that Dick’s bunk was the messiest of the bunch. 

“He’s in the bathroom, but he’ll be out in a moment.” The hispanic girl said.

“Thanks, uh…”

“Katarina.”

“Right, thanks Katarina.”

“De nada, payaso.” She said with a smirk, and sauntered off towards a group of girls sitting on a far off bunk and giggling. Jason sat on Dick’s bed as he waited. It was no softer than his bunk in the Ares cabin, Jason was pleased to notice. He’d half thought that the Ares kids got themselves harder mattresses to prove their badassery.

Dick appeared a moment later. His hair was completely dry and immaculate, and he was dressed in civilian clothes. Despite the seeming normalcy of his outfit, Dick, like most Aphrodite children, was dressed to impress. Though everything he wore was completely casual, it looked almost unearthly on him. Sinfully tight jeans worn along with a thin blue v-neck that Jason would love to see wet. Jason snorted.

“How long did you spend primping, princess?” He asked. Dick huffed and pulled a duffle bag out from under his bed. There was a pair of knives crossed at the small of his back, which, when he pulled a jacket on, went completely unnoticed.

“It’s not me, believe me. How hard do you think bathroom time is to get in  _ this _ cabin?” Dick asked matter of factly. And yeah, Jason had to give him that one.

“Either way, it’s time to go. We’ve got some deities to save.” Jason said with a smirk. Dick smiled and handed Jason his duffle.

“Lead the way muscle man.”

Jason huffed but took the bag anyway. He led Dick, who spent mere moments saying goodbye to his siblings, out of the cabin. They met Roy, who looked bored out of his mind, and Chiron back at the Big House. Chiron watched them approach, and didn’t take his eyes off of them even when they stood right in front of him. 

“Since we’re not entirely sure where to start this quest of yours, we’ve prayed to the gods for them to give you three guidance. Dionysus says Apollo has agreed to meet with you soon after you leave. I suggest picking a direction and walking, he will likely meet you almost immediately.” Jason noticed that Chiron looked rather tired. He’d trained all the greats, and most of them had never returned. Now he was setting them off, with the guarantee that one of them for sure would not be returning. “Come, it is time to go.” He said. Chiron turned and started walking towards the tree at the entrance to the camp. Dick, Jason and Roy followed silently. When they got to the tree Chiron stopped. He turned back to them.

“Good luck on your quest. Remember, fate is set in stone, but loopholes were not born of fantasy. I hope to see you  _ all _ soon.” With that, Chiron turned and left. Jason and Roy exchanged a glance as Dick watched Chiron go.

“I guess we better get moving then.” Jason said. He stepped past the border and immediately felt his hair stand on end. He hadn’t realized just how used he’d gotten to the safety of the camp. It hadn’t been more than three days, but it was enough.

+++

When Chiron had said Apollo would meet them immediately, he’d been right. They hadn’t been walking for more than fifteen minutes when suddenly he’d appeared before them. Apollo was incredibly handsome. He was tall, as tall as Jason, with thick cording muscles and bronzed skin. His hair shone gold like the sun, which Jason thought was befitting of the god of the sun.

“Hey kid,” He said, eyes locked on Roy, easy smile shining with pride. Jason noticed Roy was beaming back earnestly. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Roy smile like that. Apollo turned his eyes to Jason. “Hey, new person. Nice glock.” Jason nearly did a double take before realizing he meant the guns. Jason flushed red and crossed his arms in annoyance. Finally Apollo’s eyes landed on Dick, and his smile grew sultry. “And who might you be?” He asked. Everything about him should have spoken of sleaze, but his incredible looks detracted from that. Dick blushed, and smiled back.

“Dick Grayson, son of Aphrodite.” He said. Jason could swear he sounded like he was flirting, and by the widening of Apollo’s already impossible smile, he probably was. 

“Love the name, gorgeous. If you’re ever on Olympus, look me up.” He said with a wink. Dick raised his eyebrows and Jason’s eyes narrowed. Roy just seemed incredibly confused. Jason wrapped his arm possessively around Dick’s waist and held him tight. Apollo just laughed.

“No need to whip out the guns kiddo, I’m a few thousand years too old for bootylicious over there, and anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I’ve come to take you to the start of your quest! Hooray for teamwork, am I right?” Apollo chuckled to himself. “So, next stop New Mexico, good luck!” Apollo snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were somewhere else. They were standing on the side of the road in what was undoubtedly a New Mexican desert. Jason stood there, letting the shock sink in before he turned to Roy and said, “Your dad’s a dick.”

Jason could practically feel the sunburn creeping up along his arms. Dick squinted up at the sun and then turned to stare down the road. It was long and overly bright and utterly, completely empty. Dick sighed. He debated whether to continue waiting for a truck, or just use an Iris message and see if someone could come pick them up, while Roy and Jason bickered beside him. Silently, Dick prayed to his mother.  _ Mother, if you don’t mind sending me a way to get us out of here, I’ll make sure to sacrifice you the newest Chanel when I get back. _ Suddenly he heard the rumble of an engine. When Dick looked back towards the road, there was an eighteen wheeler ambling down it. He turned back to Jason and Roy with a triumphant look on his face, but they were still bickering about the merits of the sun god. Dick ignored them and walked out onto the road, holding his hand out.

“Uh, Dickie, what are you doing?” Jason asked. Dick ignored him as the eighteen wheeler came to a stop next to him. The passenger side door opened and Dick walked towards it, Jason and Roy now silent at his heels.

The truck driver was a greasy middle aged man with a beer gut large enough to make him look pregnant, and less hair than Dr. Evil. Dick smiled widely at the man, who looked him over with watery brown eyes.

“Wha’dya need, suga’?” The man asked, voice cigarette rough and stinking of alcohol. Dick privately cursed his mother for her ridiculous sense of humor.

“My friends and I need a ride into town, take us.” He said, letting his voice slip into that intoxicating edge. Some of Aphrodite’s children, including Dick, were gifted with the ability to make people do what they said. It was called charmspeak. Dick had it in spades, but he rarely used it. He didn’t think it was fair to take people’s free will. Unless the only other option was being left out in New Mexico’s version of Death Valley until someone decided to come check on them, which in this case it was.

Jason looked sharply at him, probably expecting the truck driver to be offended and ignore Dick’s request. But instead the man just nodded his balding head.

“O’ course suga’. Hop on in. I’m afraid one of ya’ll’s ganna need to share.” He said, eyes taking on the glazed look of the charmspeak victims.

“No problem, sir.” Dick said, he turned to look back at Jason and Roy.

“Roy, go ahead.” He said. Roy gave him a scandalized look, and opened his mouth to argue when Jason shot him a dark look. Roy grumbled petulantly, but complied. Jason got in next, and Dick climbed in last, parking himself on Jason’s thighs.

“I’m telling you right now, if I see anything moving, hands, feet, laps,  _ anything _ , I’ll hitch a ride with fucking beer gut all the way back to the damn camp.” Roy hissed. Jason smirked and Dick just rolled his eyes.

“Where to suga’?” The man asked, eyes still slightly glazed.

“The nearest town.” Dick replied silkily, pattening the charmspeak on thick, enough to last them to the next town, wherever that may be. Charmspeak wasn’t a forever thing, like Eros’ bow was. It caused unconditional compliance, but wore off after a while, or after the speaker was far enough away. Aphrodite was helpful, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. Well, at least when she didn’t want to be.

They drove together mostly in silence, with Dick shifting in and out of sleep on Jason’s chest. When the truck driver finally stopped and they looked around, Roy grinned.

“Shit man, I love places like this.” He said. It was a small dusty town with too many liquor stores and smelled like homemade. There were women dressed comfortably and men dressed in farmer’s gear walking down the streets. They passed a sun bleached park with an abundance of screaming kids and sweaty parents. Dick watched it all avidly. He hadn’t lived in any one place until he’d been adopted by Bruce Wayne, and then it had been a city. When he’d traveled with Haly’s Circus, they’d seen all kinds of different places, but one climate they’d never seen was middle of nowhere desert town. They’d traveled over a lot of Europe, and up and down plenty of the east coast of the US, where most of Haly’s shows were, but the midwest and the south were completely foreign to Dick. He ate it up.

Jason on the other hand was unimpressed. Though, to be fair, he was unimpressed by most things. The most impressed he’d been in years had been when Batman and Superman had come into the public eye. Superheroes weren’t a daily thing before that, and he’d been not only impressed, but a little hopeful. Hopeful that maybe one day one of them would save him. It had never happened, but he wasn’t old enough to have grown entirely bitter about that just yet. The discovery of the gods diminished his impression of them just a little, however. Superheroes were spectacular, but now there were gods too?

Suddenly Jason turned to Dick. “Are Superman and Batman demigods?” He whispered. Dick grew very uncomfortable, and shifted on Jason’s lap.

“Uh, yeah.” He muttered, eyes looking shifty.

“Do you know them?” Jason asked. Dick’s lack of eye contact was answer enough. Jason could see how uncomfortable it made him, however, so he didn’t push.

The truck driver finally stopped at a gas station about a mile and a half inside the town. He let them out, and Dick thanked him profusely, even leaving a twenty he’d pulled from somewhere in the man’s glove compartment. Dick’s goodness confused Jason, but he loved it all the same.

They wandered down the town roads for an hour, aimlessly looking through shop windows and crossing streets with low flow traffic. They grew tired eventually, under the New Mexico sun, and decided to check in to a motel for the night. None of them knew why Apollo had sent them there of all places, to the town of Gallo, New Mexico, where the sun beat down heavier than rain, and everything was a washed out, muted beige, even the people.

Dick said suddenly that he had a way to tell what they would actually be doing in Gallo.

“How?” Roy asked doubtfully.

“Jason, do you remember when I told you I’m Romani?” He asked. Jason nodded. Dick rooted around in his duffle bag until he pulled out a deck of long, thick cards. They could only be one thing.

“Tarot cards?” Jason asked. Dick nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, they were a gift from my mother. She had Apollo charm them, and now they actually see the future.”

“Where was this spectacularly convenient psychicness an hour ago?” Roy complained.

“I wanted to see if we’d actually need them first. Sometimes things just come up to you in the street, and you don’t need anything to find them.” Dick said as he handed Jason his backpack. He made to sit down on the sidewalk, but Jason grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Uh, Dickie, I know this is probably the only thing that’ll help us, but maybe we shouldn’t do it out on the street?” He said, and Dick shrugged.

“I guess.” He replied sulkily. Jason just barely held back an eye roll.

“Don’t worry babe, we’ll get a motel room and you can use a table.” Dick relented and they started walking in the direction of a flashing neon purple sign that read ‘motel’. Before they could reach it, however, a man stepped in front of them. He wore a dark trench coat with a popped collar and a fedora strategically placed so that they couldn’t see his face.

“Would one of you happen to a Mr. Jason Todd?” He asked. Jason nodded, immediately growing wary. He got the feeling Dick hadn’t been kidding about things just coming up to you in the street.

“That’d be me. What do you want?” He asked, stepping back a bit. The man looked up and his eyes were fire. They didn’t just look like fire, they weren’t simply orange, no his eyes were made of literal fire. Jason reeled back as the man seemed to burst from his clothes in a white hot flash. As fire spewed from his body, Roy dove to the ground, and Jason tackled Dick. They heard cackling behind them and when Jason turned around he saw a giant flaming bird.

“You see what I mean!” Dick shouted, shielding his eyes from the blinding light. “It’s a phoenix!”

Jason and Roy exchanged a glance.

“Do you think this might be the trail by fire?” Roy asked as he pulled his bow and quiver out of his duffle.

“Yeah, no shit.” Jason shot back. He pulled out his guns, clicked off the safety, and fired. The phoenix roared wrathfully as three bullets imbedded themselves in it’s wing. It spit fire at Jason, who jumped out of the way. Dick pulled the twin blades out of their sheaths at the small of his back and ran at the phoenix, slashing it across the throat. It gurgled and staggered back, black blood and fire leaping from the wound. It’s red eyes flashed and it leaped toward Dick, using it’s one uninjured wing to give it some height. It came crashing towards Dick, only for an arrow to imbed itself in the creature’s eye. It roared again, staggering back before going at Dick again. Dick snarled at the bird and raised his daggers over his head. He slashed down and the daggers stabbed into the phoenix’s chest. Black blood oozed from the wounds, and fire spit out, sending Dick flying into the window of a nearby display, where he didn’t move. Jason watched with wide angry eyes at the phoenix screamed and growled before bursting into a bright white ball of flame. The only thing left was the ashes and Dick’s knives. Jason immediately went to Dick, while Roy went to grab the ash covered blades. Jason crouched down next to Dick, who was lying in the glass with a massive burn on his chest that was bleeding sluggishly.

“Dick?” Jason asked, voice shaking. He didn’t want to touch Dick in fear of hurting him, but he gently laid his hands on Dick’s shoulders anyway, and tried to shake him gently awake.

“Come on Dick, don’t do this to me.” Jason growled. “We barely even finished the first trial asshole! Come on!” He shouted desperately, shaking Dick harder. Finally blue eyes shot open, looking towards Jason with pain staggering through them.

“What,” Dick panted, wincing and moaning at the pain. “the fuck just happened?” He snapped. Jason barked out a laugh.

“You just killed a phoenix asshole.”

“Did I? That’s nice.” His eyes started to slide shut again, his features tight and contorted in pain, but Jason shook him once more.

“No no, none of that asshole. You better stay the fuck awake.”

“Hurts, Jay.” He moaned. Jason grimaced and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do to heal a burn that encompassed basically the entire chest.

“I know baby, I know. Just stay awake and hold on. We’ll get some help.” He looked around. Roy was walking grimly towards him, and the townspeople were watching with wide, terrified eyes.

“We have to get him out of here. I can heal him, but these people just saw us murder a guy and the cops will probably be here soon. We need to start driving.” Roy said grimly. His bow was slung over his shoulder. He was speaking softly, and looking around nervously. Jason remembered about what Ares had told him about the mist. If there really was an all powerful mist that controlled the mortal perception, then Roy was probably right, and the townspeople probably had just seen them murder a man, the man the phoenix had disguised itself as. Jason picked Dick up, who cried out and squeezed his eyes shut from the pain. Jason made soothing noises and held him close.

“It’s ok Dickie, Roy can fix you, just calm down. You’ll be fine.” Of course, Jason wasn’t actually sure how much Roy could really do. The burn was bad, it had melted some of Dick’s shirt to his chest. Jason couldn’t see any bone, but he saw a lot of blood. Roy ran towards the nearest vehicle, a soccer momesque minivan. He shoved his bow into the glass of the passenger side door and flinched away as it shattered. He unlocked the car from the inside, and opened the back door for Jason. He instructed Jason to put Dick down in the backseat, then followed after him, pulling a pack out of his duffle bag.

“I’m assuming you know how to hotwire a car?” Roy asked, not looking up from where he was  pulling some kind of gold colored cubes out of the pack along with a squirt bottle and some bandages.

“Don’t insult me.” Jason shot back, but he was already heading towards the front seat. He got in, quickly hotwired the car, and peeled out of the parking lot. The people behind them had phones out, and were taking pictures.

“I hate to break this to you Roy, but we’re probably going to need a new car soon.” He said, eyes shifting between the rearview mirror and the road. Roy just grunted. Jason glanced back to see Roy feeding Dick one of the cubes and singing something that he was reading off a piece of paper in his other hand. Whatever he was singing wasn’t in english.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re not even bandaging it!” Jason snapped, eyes wide. His heart pounded in his chest. He hadn’t realized that when Roy had said he could help Dick that what he’d really meant was that he could sing get well soon and feed him tofu.

“Roy!” Jason shouted again, debating the pros and cons of pulling the car over while on the run. Roy just waved him off impatiently, and Jason reluctantly kept driving the car. After several minutes of frantic singing Roy finally stopped and let out a sigh of relief. Jason turned back to see him sitting on his heels, the piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand. Dick’s chest was healed, completely and totally healed. Not only that, but the small scrapes from where the glass had cut into his skin were gone too. His skin was just as flawless as it had always been. Jason nearly stopped slammed the break in shock.

“What the fuck?” He squeaked.

“Shh!” Roy hissed, looking back over his shoulder at Jason. “He’s asleep.” Roy folded the piece of paper back up and put it in his pocket. He climbed up to the front and sat back in the passenger seat with a sigh. He ran a hand over his face and was silent for a few moments. He looked completely drained, like he hadn’t slept in a month, like the last thing he’d had to eat had been weeks ago. Jason alternately watched the road, and gave him bug eyes.

“Ok, what the hell was that?” Jason hissed, finally done with the silence. Roy sighed again. He was doing a lot of sighing so far on this trip.

“ _ That, _ was what happens when you’re the son of Apollo. There’s this hymn that all the Apollo campers have memorized. If one of us sings it to Apollo, then we can heal people. The head of the Apollo cabin gave me the hymn to memorize, but I didn’t have time. That was what the paper was.” Jason nodded along, despite not really understanding.

“Right, and what were the little square thingies?” He asked. Roy raised an eyebrow at his words.

“Ambrosia. Food of the gods. It heals demigods.” He replied, shutting his eyes. “I think I’m ganna take a nap. Wake me when we change cars, or whenever you see somewhere we can stop for food.” He said, already falling asleep. Jason smirked.

“You got it Dr. House.”

Roy just flipped him off.

+++

Jason drove them for an hour, taking random turns and back roads to avoid any kind of tail. He didn’t really think he had one, but he was paranoid and the townspeople had taken their pictures. He was still driving when he heard rustling in the back seat. He looked back to see Dick sitting up. His shirt was still charred, but the skin beneath it was immaculate.

“What happened?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Roy healed you with his magic singing.” Jason replied with a smirk. Dick looked adorably confused before he nodded.

“Right, I forgot about the Apollo hymn. Man I love Apollo. We should sacrifice some food to him next time we stop.” Dick said groggily.

“Hey, no arguments here. We just passed a sign that says there’s a McDonald’s a few miles ahead. We can stop there.”

They did indeed stop at the McDonald’s, but they didn’t go in until Dick had changed into a different, less melted shirt. Jason had a difficult time rousing Roy as well, and when he did wake up he still looked wiped, but he instantly brightened at the prospect of food.

They ordered quickly and took their food first to a trash can where they each sacrificed a small portion to Apollo, and then to a table where Roy basically fell into the seat and attacked his remaining burger. 

“Thanks for saving me Roy.” Dick said as soon as he sat down. Roy just grunted and continued inhaling his food.

“N’ pr’bl’m” He replied, the burger muffling his voice. Dick pressed his lips together, obviously trying not to laugh. Jason sat down next to Dick and opened his chicken nuggets.

“You know, my siblings like chivalry. I’m sure they’d appreciate what you did for me back there.” Dick said offhandedly, but Jason could see the smile in his eyes as he tucked into his Happy Meal. Roy stopped eating, half chewed food making his cheeks bulge like a hamster.

“R’lly?” He asked. Dick smiled brightly.

“Definitely.”

Roy’s eyes glazed over as he imagined the prospect of grateful Aphrodite girls, and Jason tried not to roll his eyes.

“So, Roy’s impending love life aside, may I ask what we’re supposed to do now that we’re both on the run, and have nowhere to go?” Jason asked. Dick gave him an unimpressed look that Jason had a feeling he would grow to hate.

“The tarot cards,” The duh was implied. “I said I could use them in Gallo to figure out what we were supposed to be doing, but I can also use them to find out where we should go next.” He said, unwrapping the toy Batman that had come with his Happy Meal. He played with the arms idly, making them punch air, then huffed out a laugh. He was grinning at the thing with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“I think I’m going to get this for my dad for Christmas.” He said, eyes still focused on the toy. “He hates these things. I wonder if they have a Superman one too?”

Before they left Dick went up the the cashier and bought a Superman toy as well.

When they left the restaurant they took all their bags and broke into a different van that was parked in a dark corner of the parking lot, shrouded by trees and shrubs. The poor owner had probably been looking for shade. Jason hotwired the car again, and got in the drivers seat. Roy settled in for another nap, and Dick sat on the floor in the back, carefully putting the toys in his backpack and trading them for the tarot cards. Jason couldn’t watch what he was doing, too busy watching the road, but he could hear rustling and flipping and the slaps of cards against the floor.

“So, how exactly does this work? Do you have to pray to Aphrodite or something?” Jason asked. Dick took a moment to answer him.

“Not really, it’s sort of just an old european tradition. Most decks are crap, along with most supposed diviners, but sometimes when Apollo feels generous he makes a real deck of these, or a real crystal ball, stuff like that. Aphrodite commissioned these from him, and it’s one of maybe five decks in the world that actually works. I can’t really explain how it works, you have to know how to read them is all.” Dick said, sounding distracted.

“Did you know when you got them? How to read them I mean.”

“Yeah, but that’s only because one of the psychics at the circus taught me. Aphrodite said she’d give me the cards, but I had to learn to use them on my own.” After that was mostly silence for a several minutes, with the occasional break of a snore from Roy, or the rustling of a card from Dick.

“Got it,” Dick said finally. “It’s New Orleans. We have to go to New Orleans.” 

Jason’s eyebrows creased.

“Then somebody either has to tell me where to go or switch with me, because I don’t know where we’re going.” He said. Dick switched with him.

Jason sat in the back, relishing in the silence and the lack of tension in the car. They were undoubtedly heading for another fight, and Jason was worried about what would happen when they got there. It was a low key worry however, he was worried but it wasn’t immediate, it was mere background noise. Jason glanced down at Dick’s backpack. He wanted to see what the tarot cards really looked like. When he looked down he noticed that the card Dick had left on top of the deck was Death. 


	6. Enter Achilles and Patroclus, Stage Left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Achilles and Patroclus!
> 
> Sorry that both last week and this week's updates have been single chapters instead of my usual two. It's been a busy few weeks, but hopefully we'll be back to our regularly scheduled double chapter update next Sunday.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

They didn’t leave camp until the following morning. Chiron looked less troubled than the day before, and he bid them happy farewell. He handed them a backpack filled with food that he said the wood nymphs had packed specifically for Clark. Clark blushed a brilliant red, but Bruce just took the pack and rolled his eyes.

“Before you boys leave,” Chiron said suddenly, his mannerisms once again revealing his anxiety. “I suggest searching at the literal high and low. Perhaps the Underworld is a good place to start.” He said. Bruce wrinkled his nose in distaste and saw Clark’s jaw clench angrily. They’d both been to the Underworld before, and neither of them were particularly fond of it. Persephone tried three times to get Clark to have an affair with her, and Hades kept trying to get Bruce to try the pomegranate seeds. It had all been for a particularly annoying quest that involved obtaining water from the River Styx for Hera. By the end of it they’d absolved never to go to the Underworld again unless absolutely necessary, or if they were dead.

“Do we have to?” Clark asked, the displeasure obvious in his voice. Chiron just smiled fondly at him.

“Like I said, it would be a good place to start.”

They left the camp without much further ado, and walked down the hill until they reached the nearest road where a ragged looking pickup truck was waiting for them. Bruce sighed.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind donating a car to the camp. I really  _ really _ wouldn’t.” He muttered. Clark laughed and hauled himself into the front seat. Bruce was a better getaway driver than Clark, but Clark could stand longer hours awake with less nourishment, so he always drove during the road trips.

“Come on princess, get in the car. It won’t bite.”

“Fine, but if this thing gives me herpes, just know you’ll get it too.” He huffed, and pulled himself up into the passenger side. Clark laughed and turned the ignition.

“Whatever you say, Bruce.”

The drive to California was literally from one side of the country to the other, and would take several days to complete. After four hours, Clark was already complaining.

“I just don’t understand why Dionysus can’t just poof us over there!” He groaned as he pulled up to yet another stop light.

“He used to,” Bruce replied distractedly. He was engrossed in a book about learning different methods of coding, and was only half paying attention to anything Clark said. Despite the fact that being a demigod meant that mortal technologies and things were regularly scoffed at, Bruce had long ago learned the benefits of keeping yourself well rounded. He was already brilliant, he might as well use it, and use it he did. He sat in on Wayne Enterprises meetings as often as he could, and he’d already taken several college level courses on business, entrepreneurship and engineering. He’d hired the best tutors possible for his more or less homespun education, all while completing the dreary basic high school curriculum that was required of all teenagers. Unlike Clark, Bruce was homeschooled, and he generally completed the required materials at least a month or two before the regular school year let out. In the early days after his parents deaths he would usually use these months tracking their suspected killer and trying to further the case himself. He’d eventually realized that what he was being taught wasn’t giving him the necessary skills to complete this task. That was when he started hiring the tutors. He’d taken forensics, criminology, all kinds of classes. But those were the early days. These days he spent those extra months in Smallville with Clark, and hired tutors for more practical subjects.

“I think he got tired of doing it, honestly,” Bruce said. “I mean we’ve gone on how many quests in the nearly four years we’ve been doing this? Eight?”

“I think this one actually makes it eleven.” Clark replied. Bruce rolled his eyes and closed his book.

“Because that makes it so much better. That’s nearly three quests a year Clark. There’s only three months in the summer, which gives us an average of a quest a month, every summer for four years. We have problems.” Bruce shot back. “No, wait, just you. You have problems. You just make me drag along because I give good head.”

Clark’s face settled into a wicked grin. “Speaking of…” He trailed off with a waggle of his eyebrows. Bruce pinched his nose and shook his head.

“I’m not blowing you while you’re driving.” He muttered.

“Why not?” Clark pouted, his bottom lip sticking out cartoonishly.

“Because you’re driving through Jersey, and I don’t really want to die.” Bruce replied, opening his book back up. “Besides, the basics of programing C++ is so much more interesting.” Clark huffed in response.

+++

They drove for hours, Clark knew most of the route, having driven it before, and what little he didn’t remember Bruce looked up on the map. They drove until midnight, when Clark asked Bruce whether or not they should stop for the night. Bruce declined, saying he would take a driving shift while Clark got some sleep, and then they could switch again in the morning. They drove like this for two days. At one am on the second night Clark drove past a sign welcoming them to Los Angeles. There was a skyline on the horizon made up of enormous buildings and palm trees. Clark liked Los Angeles, it was New York’s more attractive sister. Bruce was sleeping soundly next to him, and Clark didn’t wake him until they were parked at the Coconut Motel right outside of the city. Clark shook Bruce’s shoulder gently.

“Bruce,” He whispered. Slowly blue eyes opened in slits.

“We’re a few miles outside the city. It’s almost two, so we’re stopping at a motel for the night, ok?” Clark asked quietly. Bruce nodded and sat up. His hair was adorably ruffled and he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with the palms of his hands. Clark climbed out of the truck first, and headed over to the front desk where a wrinkled woman met him. She was smoking a cigarette and had far too many wrinkles to be younger than forty, but her skin was tanned a crisp brown, so dark that her platinum blonde hair stood out like a traffic light. Her eyes tracked him as he walked in, and when he finally stood at the front desk, her bloodshot eyes raked him up and down. She smiled crookedly, revealing two rows of yellowing teeth.

“What can I get for you handsome?” She asked, her voice deep and rough with smoke.

“One room please, a single.”

“That’ll be thirty bucks, check out’s at eleven. Stay any later and you’ll be payin’ for a second night.” She said, handing over the key to room eight. Clark handed her the money and went back outside to grab Bruce and his duffle. Bruce was standing outside the truck with his arms crossed, both their duffle bags resting at his feet.

“Room eight.” Clark said. 

Room eight was small, with a bathroom, a single table, a bed, and a TV that looked like it had seen better days.

“One bed huh? That’s presumptuous.” Bruce said airily as he dropped his duffel on the floor on the left side of the bed. Clark liked sleeping nearer to the door, and Bruce thought it was too ridiculous a quirk to get in a fight about, so he always chose the side or the bed farther from the door. As long as he could see all the exits, he didn’t really care. Clark came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s waist and pressing a wet kiss to his neck.

“Maybe if I wasn’t so tired that I’d probably pass out in the middle of it.” He said with a laugh. He grinned and turned in Clark’s arms to kiss him deeply, tongue slipping into his mouth. He pulled away with a smile, and wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck.

“Morning then?” Clark asked, kissing him once more.

“Morning.” Bruce agreed. They stripped down to their underwear and got under the covers slowly. They were too tired for anything that night, admittedly, but Bruce always enjoyed seeing Clark shirtless. He tucked himself into Clark, who wrapped his arms around Bruce’s body, pulling him close. They slept together as often as they could. The simple fact was that after all the quests they’d gone on, after all the monsters and horrors they’d faced, they didn’t like sleeping alone. At the mansion Bruce begged Alfred to sleep in the same wing as him, instead of in the servants quarters, because he’d often wake up from nightmares, and having someone close by was better than not. Clark used to sleep out in the barn when he was younger. He’d liked being able to see the sky and the stars before drifting off, and he’d liked to wake with the sun. Now though, he slept in the small farm house every night, where he could hear his parents heartbeats. He didn’t sleep in the barn anymore unless Bruce came to visit. He had nightmares too, and it was just better that way.

“I can’t believe we have to go back to Hades.” Clark said suddenly, his chin resting on Bruce’s head.

“Me either. If I never have to see that bitch Persephone again it’ll be too soon.” He muttered. Clark smiled.

“Hades either.” He said.

“Hades either.” Bruce agreed. They fell asleep like that, tangled in each other for comfort. The only time they didn’t have nightmares was when they were sleeping together.

+++

Clark woke first, as he usually did. Bruce had never been a morning person, preferring to do work deep into the night, and not waking until noon. Clark was the complete opposite. While he did enjoy the occasional night out, he preferred going to bed early, and rising with the sun. He’d grown up on a farm, it was ingrained in him. Clark wondered whether or not to wake Bruce, when the body in his arms started to stir. Clark glanced at the clock. It read nine fifteen.

“I think this is the earliest I’ve ever seen you up.” Clark remarked idly. Even though there was technically a specific time they had to be awake and asleep by at camp, neither of them were really restricted by those rules. They were well known for their never ending challenges, and as such they were given some leeway with their daily schedules. Bruce slapped Clark’s chest and rolled onto his back.

“Bitch.” He murmured, eyes still closed. Clark grinned, but didn’t say anything. He had more effective ways of getting Bruce to wake up. He slid his hand down Bruce’s chest towards the v of his abs. His hand skimmed past Bruce’s morning wood all the way down to the little hole below it. Bruce’s breathing sped up, and his eyebrows crinkled together. Clark rubbed at his hole until Bruce tossed his head back and groaned.

“Please, Clark,” He panted out, his breath coming out in short gasps. Clark grabbed the lube out of his duffle bag and slicked up his fingers. They’d stopped using condoms after a while. They never had sex with anybody else after all. Clark prepped Bruce quickly, scissoring two then three fingers in and out of him. He was trying to decide whether or not to go for four when he hit Bruce’s prostate and Bruce’s back arched off the bed, a loud moan making it’s way out his throat. Clark decided he couldn’t wait any longer, and slicked up his cock. He took Bruce’s calves in his hands and spread his legs into a split. Bruce looked up at him from half-lidded lust drunk eyes. Clark rubbed the tip of his dick around Bruce’s entrance.

“Clark, please!” Bruce whimpered. Finally Clark had mercy on him, and shoved inside Bruce in one long thrust. Bruce screamed, back arching once again. In the back of his mind Clark worried about whether or not they’d be heard, but it was only a fleeting thought. He had better things to focus on. Clark thrust brutally into Bruce, pulling all the way out and shoving sharply back in.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” Bruce bit out, and Clark grinned wickedly, hips snapping into Bruce. Clark leaned down and circled his tongue around a nipple.

“Aww, thanks baby.” He replied as Bruce let out a high pitched keen. The headboard was slamming in the wall, chipping the paint and denting the plaster. Clark had super strength, everybody knew it. He also had some measure of increased speed. One of the things Clark loved about Bruce was that he could fuck him almost as roughly as possible, and Bruce wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t be able to sit for days afterward, but the only thing that did was make him hornier. Clark could feel the heat building at the bottom on his stomach, but he held himself off. He pulled out of Bruce and only left the tip in, gripping the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. Bruce’s fists were gripping the sheets hard enough to turn his knuckles white. There were tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, and his face was flushed. His lips were red and swollen from where he’d been biting them. Clark leaned down and pressed a bruising kiss to Bruce’s lips. He got a hand around Bruce’s erection and started stroking him. Bruce whimpered into the kiss as Clark started thrusting again, just as hard and fast. He broke the kiss and started trailing his lips down Bruce’s jaw toward his neck. There was a fading hickey on his collarbone, and Clark renewed it with fervor, biting and sucking the delicate skin into his mouth. Bruce’s arms came up around Clark’s neck, where he wrapped them tight, blunt fingernails digging into tough skin. Bruce was making punched out little noises, his breathing short and quick. Clark twisted his hand, fingernail flicking the head of Bruce’s dick like Clark knew he liked, and Bruce exploded, his orgasm rocking through him. Bruce arched off the bed, his hole clenching down tight around Clark’s cock, come exploding from his dick. Clark only needed a handful more thrusts before he too was coming, filling Bruce’s ass with white hot come.

Bruce slumped back into the pillows, eyes shut and breathing heavy. Clark gently pulled out of him, biting his lip at the rush of come that followed. Bruce whimpered at the loss, but didn’t move, aside from his hands clenching in the sheets. Clark flopped back on the bed next to him, his breathing just as heavy, but his eyes were wide instead of clenched shut.

“Fuck, I love you.” Clark breathed out. Bruce was silent for a moment before he started to laugh. He rolled over slowly, resting his head on Clark’s chest.

“Love you too, Smallville.” He replied. They laid there for only a few moments longer, before the feeling of come dripping out his ass was no longer pleasant for Bruce.

“I’m going to shower,” He said, sitting up with a wince. Clark sat up behind him, rubbing a hand down his back.

“You ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m just going to be feeling this one for a while, asshole.” Bruce groaned. Clark chuckled lightly and kissed Bruce’s forehead.

“Come on, let’s go shower.”

They showered quickly and efficiently, too focused on the impending day to fool around. They dressed just as quickly, and were out the door before ten thirty.

“Breakfast?” Clark asked hopefully as they got back in the truck. Bruce grabbed one of the duffles from the backseat as Clark started the car. He rooted around for a moment before pulling out to-go container of half finished waffles and an apple. They’d eaten all the food the nymphs had packed for them on the way down. The nymphs never made enough food. It was like they thought that if they didn’t feed Bruce he’d leave and they could have Clark all to themselves. The nymphs  _ loved _ Clark.

“We can stop at a McDonald’s drive through.” Bruce said finally. They got pancakes at McDonalds and ate them dry on the way to the DOA Recording Studios in Los Angeles. They weren’t driving long before Clark was pulling up in front of the building. It was a little hole in the wall studio, mostly empty aside from a withered looking man sitting at the front desk. Charon, the reaper of souls, looked up as they entered. Bruce put two golden drachma’s down on the desk.

“Passage for two please.” He said, stepping back. Clark noticed with immense satisfaction that Bruce was limping. Charon swept the drachma’s into his palm and nodded solemnly. He turned and started walking toward an elevator in the back of the studio. Bruce and Clark knew better than to ask, they simply followed after him and the walked inside. When the doors slid shut Charon pressed the button for the basement, and the elevator dropped. It dropped quickly and violently, and both boys gripped the railing hard. When finally the elevator slowed to a stop, it opened up to reveal an old boat floating ominously on an inky black river. Charon climbed aboard, Bruce and Clark following him. The ride across the Styx was silent. The Underworld made Bruce anxious, and he knew Clark felt the same. There was something about visiting the place you knew you were going to end up when you died that was just a little too unsettling for the both of them. When they got to the other side the screams of damned souls greeted them as they exited the boat, and Charon floated away silently.

“I really kinda hate that guy.” Clark muttered suddenly. Bruce snorted.

“I wonder why.”

“He’s just unsettling. He never says anything.”

“I know Clark, I know.” Bruce said. He looked at the landscape ahead of them. Last time they were there he’d made sure to draw a map so he could memorize the layout, should he ever need to enter the Underworld again. Bruce knew there was a way to get around Cerberus without having to deal with the beast, but doubtlessly have to pass the Judgement Pavilion if they wanted to get to Hades Palace. But did they want to get to Hades palace?

“Hey, where are we going?” He asked Clark, suddenly unsure. Clark shrugged.

“Dunno. The prophecy said search high and low, well we’re low now. I don’t really know where we go now.” He replied.

“Well we’re looking for Achilles’ sword right?” Bruce asked. Clark opened his mouth to reply, but stopped.

“Wait, we are?”

Bruce tried not to groan.

“Yes Clark,  _ retrieve the sword of the son of Thetis _ . There’s only ever been one famous son of Thetis, and that’s Achilles. So we’re looking for the sword of Achilles, right?”

Clark nodded. “Sure.” He said. This was why he was glad Bruce was with him. He would have for sure been able to figure out that line of the prophecy on his own, but he hadn’t really thought about it until now. He’d been more preoccupied with planning how to kill Hecate, but he guessed that was probably what the sword was for.

“Well then why don’t we just go ask him where it is?” Bruce said suddenly, like the idea had just come to mind. Clark glanced at him with raised eyebrows. He was about to mention that Achilles was dead, before he remembered where they were.

“Bruce, you’re a genius.”

“I know.”

“Do you think they’ll even let us in?” Clark asked. “I mean he’s for sure in Elysium, and they don’t really just let people in or out of there.”

“Well we have to ask. If they don’t, then we can always ask Hades.” Bruce said this with obvious distaste, but they both knew it would work. Hades was fascinated by Bruce, and would probably help him without too many hoops to jump through, maybe in exchange for a favor. Persephone, on the other hand, hated Bruce, probably due to her husband’s infatuation with him, but she liked Clark well enough, and would probably be willing to help him.

“Yeah, all right. Let’s go.”

They set off down the path towards Elysium, the Fields of Punishment on their left the entire time. Clark kept glancing back at it, seeing nothing but blood and bodies twisted in various forms of torture. The soundtrack of the Underworld was the endless screaming of those damned souls, and Clark could barely keep his eyes off of them. It was like watching a never ending car crash, too horrific to quite look away from, even if you felt vaguely queasy the whole time you were watching. After a while Bruce noticed Clark’s lack of attention, and looked up to see Clark’s eyes glued to a woman getting her skin flayed off before he looked away, swallowing hard. Bruce slipped his hand in Clark’s and squeezed. Clark was, above all, a good man. No just good as in accomplished, or talented, but good as in kind. No matter how talented Clark was at fighting or killing, no matter how proud he got, he’d always remained a kind soul, and Bruce loved that about him.

“We’re almost there.” Bruce said softly. Clark didn’t reply, just looked ahead and clenched his jaw.

They didn’t have to walk much longer before they were indeed at the gates of Elysium. There were undead guards at the gates. They were a mix of zombie-like and skeletal, with portions of skin missing, and other parts gray and pallid. Clark walked up to one of them.

“We need to speak with Achilles Peleides.”  _ Achilles, son of Peleus _ Clark said stonily. It was better to be direct and emotionless with the undead, they weren’t fond of bullshit. They were dead after all; they had nothing to live for. Clark held out twelve drachma’s, six for each guard. They guards exchanged glances, but Bruce wasn’t sure they would go for it. That kind of money was invaluable down here, but they were under Hades control all the same. They guards shook their heads. Clark grimaced and glanced at Bruce. Bruce held out another twelve drachmas, but the guards still shook their heads.

“Hades, then?” Clark asked. Bruce just nodded in defeat.

It didn’t take them long to get to Hades palace. It was across from Elysium and down only a few miles. They walked silently side by side. Bruce was running through possible scenarios in his head. Dealing with Hades was never fun, and it never resulted in anything less than awful discomfort for either of them.

“We’re here.” Clark announced suddenly, eyes glued to the black and bone castle in front of them. Bruce grimaced.

“And into the lion’s den we go.” They walked through the front doors, the undead guards paying them no mind. They’d been there before, and the guards knew not to stop them. The palace was large and winding, impossible to get around if you hadn’t been there before. Luckily Bruce had drawn and memorized a map of it as well. He led Clark through the dank hallways toward a set of double doors. He pushed the doors open and there they sat in their royal thrones, Hades and Persephone. Hades was talking to an almost completely skeletal soldier who was wearing what appeared to be a civil war uniform. Persephone was sitting at his side, chin resting in her hand, trying to look like she wasn’t falling asleep. Though they appeared to be relatively similar in age, Hades and Persephone looked like complete opposites. Persephone had long blonde hair, bright blue eyes and was elegantly thin, while Hades was large and thickly muscular with a brutish but undoubtedly royal look about him. They looked up when Bruce and Clark entered. Hades’ face immediately split into a wide wicked grin, eyes immediately locking on Bruce. Persephone’s face twisted unhappily.

“What brings you here,  _ ómorfos _ ?” Hades asked Bruce. He used his personal pet name for Bruce,  _ ómorfos _ , which meant beautiful. Bruce shifted uncomfortably, and Clark’s eyes narrowed. Persephone’s own eyes flashed dangerously as she glared at her husband.

“We require your assistance, Lord Hades.” Bruce said, bowing slightly. Hades leaned on the arm of his throne, eyes assessing.

“Go on.” He said. Bruce nodded; he seemed uncharacteristically nervous.

“We’re on a quest to defeat the goddess Hecate, but we cannot defeat her without the sword of Achilles,” Bruce paused, seeming to consider his next words. It was no secret that Hades was difficult, and that Elysium was strictly off limits to anyone not already dead and worthy. “We need to speak with Achilles to find out where the sword is hidden.” He finished. Hades was quiet for some time. 

“Yes, I am aware of Hecate’s treachery. This is a noble quest, and unlike most, it is one I approve of,” He glanced at Persephone. Her lips were thin and she did not look pleased but she nodded none the less. Hades turned back to them. “I will give you access to Elysium, but you must speak  _ only _ to Achilles and his companion Patroclus. If you speak to anyone else in Elysium, you will not leave the Underworld. Hold out your hand,  _ ómorfos _ .”

Bruce did as he was told. Hades waved his hand and a small rolled up scroll appeared in Bruce’s palm.

“This will get you into Elysium. I do have, of course, one last condition.” They should have expected as much. Clark clenched and unclenched his fists, forcing himself to relax. Hades was a god, of course he’d have a condition.

“I am aware of the prophecy surrounding this particular quest. Mr. Kent, if you defeat Hecate and become a god, and if I do as you ask of me, allow you into Elysium, you will owe me a favor. Just one, but whatever I ask for you must do, or lose your godhood.” Hades growled. Bruce’s hand shot out and gripped Clark’s arm tightly.

“Clark, don’t do this. There are other ways of finding the sword, safer ones.” He warned, eyes boring into Clark’s. Clark grimaced.

“I am offended,  _ ómorfos _ , you do not trust me.” Hades mocked, an unsettling smile lighting his face. Bruce ignored him.

“Without that sword, I’ll never be able to defeat Hecate. At least this way I have a chance.” Clark said. He turned, standing tall and proud, toward Hades. “I accept, Lord Hades.”

Bruce clutched the scroll in a crushing grip. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like the idea of owing Hades anything, much less owing him whatever he wants. Hades was the trickiest god of them all, and he would make Clark do something horrible, something Clark would be unwilling to do. It was his nature. Hades grinned a dark horrible grin.

“Then go now, demigods. Find the sword, defeat Hecate. I’ll be watching.” With that, Bruce and Clark turned and walked out the door, skin prickling, hair standing on end. They traveled down the dark twisting hallways completely silent. Bruce was fuming, he was furious at Clark for walking into such an obvious trap. There was more than one way to find a sword, they didn’t necessarily  _ need _ Hades help in this. Of course, without it there was no guarantee they’d ever find the sword. As soon as they were far enough away from the castle that Bruce thought they wouldn’t be overheard, he rounded on Clark.

“What the hell, Clark!” He snapped. Clark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It was the only way and you know it Bruce.”

“No it wasn’t! We could have asked any other god! They were all around when Achilles was alive, they could have seen what came of it! We could’ve talked to Achilles’ son! He might know!”

Clark stared at Bruce, an annoyed look on his face.

“None of those things would have worked. The gods didn’t care about the sword, they cared about the war and about the soldiers they favored. Pyrrhus wouldn’t be any help, he was sent to the Fields of Punishment. He wouldn’t have talked unless we got him out, and even then, he would have no idea what happened to the sword when he died. Achilles is our only chance. It was  _ his _ sword, it was never Pyrrhus's. He’ll know what happened to it.” Clark wrapped an arm around Bruce and roughly pulled him in close. Bruce clenched his hands tightly in Clark’s shirt and shoved his face in Clark’s neck.

“This was a stupid idea.” Bruce muttered.

“Maybe,” Clark said. “But it was our only one.”

They untangled themselves from each other and walked back to Elysium. Bruce went up to one of the guards and handed him the crumpled scroll. The guard read it and nodded to his partner.

The partner disappeared through the gates while the other guard waited, keeping an eye on Bruce and Clark. When the guard returned moments later, he was followed by two men who were obviously not undead. One was incredibly tall, almost as tall as Clark, with thick dark hair and broad shoulders. The other was considerably shorter and leaner, with bright gold hair sitting atop a fair head. His eyes were a brilliant green. The shorter man was undeniably gorgeous, one of the most attractive men Bruce had ever seen. The taller had mostly unassuming looks. He was handsome, but not nearly as much as his companion. He made up for his lackluster appearance, however, in height and bulk. These men could only be Achilles and Patroclus, the famed heroes of the Trojan War. Bruce knew their story, he’d suspected their relationship, and Chiron had confirmed it for him when he’d become curious enough to ask.  

“Prince Achilles?” Clark asked, ever the gentleman. The blonde man smiled.

“The kingdom I ruled no longer exists, you can just call me Achilles. This is Patroclus.” Achilles said. Patroclus nodded politely to them, a small smile gracing his lips. Chiron had also told Bruce that Patroclus had been one of the kindest people he’d ever known, that he and Achilles had balanced each other out. Achilles’ pride was tamed by Patroclus’ humility.

“Achilles, my name is Clark Kent, son of Zeus. This is my companion, Bruce Wayne, son of Athena. We’re here because we need your help.” He said.

“Come with me,” Achilles said. “I am sure Argos and Ronald wouldn’t mind letting you two in if I promised to keep an eye on you.” He looked to the guards as he talked. One of the guards shrugged, glancing toward the other who was glaring at Bruce and Clark with distaste. Eventually they relented. 

“Fine, but be quick. Hades will not be pleased if he found out.” The second guard said. Achilles nodded.

“Of course, Argos. We will not be long.” Achilles and Patroclus lead them through blocks of suburbs, each made up of buildings from a different time. There was a victorian apartment next to house that was the picture of 1950s suburbia. They were lead toward a marble pavilion not far from the entrance.

“We can talk here, no one will disturb us.” Achilles said. The four of them sat down, Achilles and Patroclus on one side of the table facing Bruce and Clark on the other.

“What do you need?” Patroclus asked. It was the first time he’d spoken, and Bruce found that he had a nice voice, not melodic like Achilles’, but soothing.

“I’m undergoing trials in order to achieve goodhood. I was given a prophecy by the Oracle three days ago. She said to find the sword of the son of Thetis. We’re assuming that’s you.” Clark said, looking towards Achilles. Achilles nodded.

“Almost definitely. My mother has had other children over the centuries, but none of them grew to fame the way I did. The only other famous child in her line would be my son, Pyrrhus, but he was her grandson, and died shamefully. I doubt it would be him.” Achilles said. There was no emotion on his face when he talked of his son, no remorse, or love, not even any real hate. There was merely a look of cold indifference, which wa arguably worse, especially coming from a parent talking about their child. Patroclus, on the other hand, had thinned his lips in distaste. Bruce remembered Chiron telling him that Pyrrhus' refusal to put Patroclus’ name on his and Achilles joint grave had resulted in Patroclus’ soul remaining on earth for some time after Achilles had died. Bruce doubted Patroclus harbored any hard feelings over Pyrrhus' death.

“Do you know where the sword is?” Bruce asked. Achilles sat thoughtfully for a moment.

“I don’t know what became of my armor after I died. Patroclus?” He asked, turning to face him. Patroclus ran a hand through his hair.

“Pyrrhus took it immediately after he arrived, but I don’t think he kept it. He had his own armor, but he wanted to claim everything that was yours first. I believe your mother took it back from him after he died.”

“If she had it then it’s doubtless she took it to Olympus.” Achilles said. “She used to talk of me being immortalized in the Monument of Heroes. I think it was a museum. If she took it, she likely hid it there.”

“Thank you so much.” Clark said honestly. Achilles nodded.

“Of course, happy to help.” He said.

“May I ask, what do you need it for?” Patroclus asked suddenly. He sounded concerned more than anything else.

“Hecate is building an army to kill the gods.” Bruce replied, face grim. “She wants to rule humanity. She’s going to kill the gods, then the demigods. We need the sword because it’s the only thing that can stop her.”

Achilles nodded. “Goddess of witches. I’ve never met her, but I’ve heard enough stories. When you return to the surface pray to my mother, tell her I sent you and that I request that she help you.”

“Will she?” Bruce asked doubtfully. He’d heard stories of Thetis. She was a piece of work on the best of days, and was only ever gentle with Achilles, but even with him she would often argue.

“The last thing she said to me was in hate. We have not had contact in close to three thousand years. She will help you.”

Bruce’s cheeks burned with embarrassment at the admission, he hadn’t meant to be rude, and he didn’t think Achilles took it that way, but it was obviously a sore subject either way. He noticed Patroclus shoot Achilles a look of concern, before gently rubbing a hand down his back.

“We can’t thank you enough, both of you.” Clark said, blue eyes wide and earnest. Achilles shrugged him off and stood, Patroclus following his lead.

“Don’t worry about it, we’re happy to help. Elysium is wonderful, and I have no complaints, but I do sometimes miss the world. There is not much we can do from down here about anything going on up there.” He said, a wry smile gracing his beautiful face. He’d been a hero in his life, and once a hero always a hero. A rest was always welcome, but someone like Achilles never lost their taste for adventure. “If you ever need anything else, we will be happy to help again.” It was a nice sentiment, but Bruce knew it would never happen. Hades had barely let them in Elysium this once, he’d probably never do it again. At least, never with a price they could handle. Achilles and Patroclus showed them the way back to the gate. They were about to leave when Achilles stopped Clark.

“Can I talk to you for a moment, before you leave?” He asked. Clark nodded. Bruce and Patroclus moved away to give them space.

“You are trying to become a god?” Achilles asked. Clark nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing these trials for nearly four years now.”

“And Bruce, your companion, has accompanied you on all of them?” He asked. Clark nodded.

“You love him, of course.” It wasn’t a question. Clark blushed, but nodded.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I think I must warn you to be careful about these trials. Nothing in life comes without a price. I was prophesized for greatness too. My mother spent her whole life helping me fulfill that prophecy, and hated anything that appeared to get in my way, including Patroclus. You understand our relationship, I assume?” Clark nodded again. “Then let me warn you, my pride, my desire to become legend caused me to neglect Patroclus, and it got him killed. I was too stubborn, to caught up in my legacy, and I let him go off into a battle he wasn’t capable of fighting. I’m not saying the same will happen to you, I am only warning you, the lovers of heroes seldom meet fortunate ends.” Achilles spoke with a kind of forcefulness Clark hadn’t heard him use before. He looked haunted.

“I remember what it was like to be left on earth with Patroclus gone. It is worse, I now know, to the one left alive. I could not handle it. I kept his body in my bed, I heard his voice at night. I did horrible things in my grief. Eternity may seem like a gift, but an eternity alone is a torture.” He gave Clark one final look before walking away towards Patroclus.

+++

While Clark and Achilles were talking, Patroclus turned to Bruce.

“You worry about him.” He said suddenly.

“Is is that obvious?” Bruce asked sheepishly. Patroclus smiled.

“Yes, but only because I have been through the same. They may be  _ Aristos Achaion _ , but they are still human, and we still worry.”  _ Aristos Achaion _ , best of the greeks. Bruce smiled, and nodded.

“That we do.” 

“I see myself in you, Bruce.” Patroclus said. “It is not a bad thing, but I remember the doubt, the worry. They are great, we are not. Do not worry so much, he loves you. He always will, even in death.”

Bruce gazed down, lips twisted unhappily. “It’s not death that worries me. If Clark becomes a god, there won’t be a death for him, only for me, and I’ll be alone forever down here. That’s what worries me.” He replied. Patroclus gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Again, do not worry. The fates may be cruel, but things have a way of working themselves out.” He replied. “Just look at me. I thought I was going to spend eternity alone as a spirit forever haunting mine and Achilles’ grave. Thetis saved me from that, no matter how much she used to despise me. I never would have expected it, and it is that, the unexpected, which we should count on.”

Bruce wasn’t so sure. There didn’t seem to be a way out of this, not unless Clark chose not to be a god, and that just simply wasn’t going to happen.

“Thank you, I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Bruce found himself saying. Just because he didn’t believe Patroclus didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the attempt at help. Achilles approached suddenly, and Patroclus went with him. They said their goodbyes, and waved at Bruce and Clark once more before disappearing behind the gates of Elysium, forever. Bruce stood there for a moment, Clark by his side, thinking over his conversation with Patroclus. He’d already accepted his fate of an eternity alone, but the conversation still gave him some false hope. He knew it was false because the only thing he could hope for was Clark not living out his dream. Bruce would never allow it, no matter how much he may hope for it.

They left Elysium and started back towards the Styx. As they walked they were spurred on by the screams of the eternally damned. 


	7. Water Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised two chapters on Sunday, and here they are, at 3am.   
> Also, you can find me on Tumblr as Jasonsgrayson.

It took them an entire day to get to New Orleans. The hardest part had been passing through Texas. Roy, who’d been driving at the time, had gotten them lost twice. His excuse had been that everything looked the same, which, admittedly, most of it did. Dick had gotten so frustrated that he’d stopped cuddling with Jason and swapped with Roy for the passenger seat. Jason, unsurprisingly, was the least pleased with the situation. 

When they were finally in New Orleans they were greeted by the smell of Cajun spices and the sight of lots of overly friendly people wearing too little clothes. They passed several occult and voodoo shops on their way to the motel, along with a veritable mishmash of food stores and multiple tourist traps. Dick had pointed out each one with equal excitement, wide blue eyes taking in everything. Every time they passed an occult shop, Dick asked if they could go visit. Jason had just pulled into the parking lot of the Scarlet Motel when Dick asked if they could go visit the Blue Moon Occult Shop & Bar, and he figured putting his foot down was the best option.

“No, Dickie, we can’t go, we have an evil thing to kill. Let’s go inside, see if you can’t use those magic cards of yours to figure out what we’re facing.” Jason said, and Dick finally relented. They grabbed their bags and moved into room fifteen. Jason flipped on the lights and cringed. Everything was red,  _ everything _ . The bedspreads were red, the pillows, the walls, the table, the carpet, everything was red. Jason’s eye twitched. Roy looked confusedly down at his bow case, which housed his very red bow, before looking back around the room. Dick just ignored it all and picked a bed.

“Ok, two beds, which means either Roy’s sleeping on the couch, or Jason’s sleeping with me.” Dick said, stretching out on the sheets. Jason admired his bluntness.

“What? How come I have to sleep on the couch?” Roy gasped, completely outraged.

“Because I’m definitely not sleeping on a couch, and since Jason’s my boyfriend, I have to give him priority. Sorry Roy.” Dick said, eyes closed. Of course he wouldn’t sleep on a couch; children of Aphrodite were above that kind of nonsense.

“And you just control the room dynamics.” Roy shot back.

“Duh,” Dick replied, not even moving. Jason just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll sleep with his highness over there, Roy, you take the other bed.” He muttered, sighing in frustration. Jason dropped his duffel on the bed, letting it land in between Dick’s legs, and ignored Roy grumbling. Dick’s eyes finally opened and he waggled his eyebrows at Jason, his gaze flicking down to the very red bed beneath him, then up to Jason’s crotch, before finally coming to a stop at Jason’s eyes. Jason snorted and shook his head, pulling Dick’s tarot cards out of his backpack. Dick sighed, but sat up anyway. He snatched the cards from Jason and padded over to the red table surrounded by cheap red chairs.

“All right boys, give me five minutes and I’ll have our monster.” He went about fiddling and flipping the cards and Jason watched as he worked. He was completely focused. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, his brow furrowed. His fingers flipped each card deftly, in a way that spoke of an abundance of practice. It took Dick three minutes to do whatever divining came from tarot.

“I’ve got it,” He announced, eyes still on the cards. “It’s a daemon.”

“A demon?” Jason asked. “I thought demons were a Christian thing?”

“No, not demon, daemon. They’re nature spirits. They’re similar to demons, and actually I think the Christians got demons from daemons. Basically a daemon is a really bitchy evil spirit that likes to screw with people, even fatally.” Dick replied, finally looking up. “And it looks like this particular daemon makes it’s home in the New Orleans ocean, so I suggest we take a beach day.”

Jason groaned. He and the beach didn’t mix. He hated to admit it, but he was white as hell. He was very Irish and fairly English, and he  _ burned _ in the sun. Sunscreen needed to be caked on, and even then he was still likely to burn. He had the sun induced freckles on his nose and shoulders to prove it.

“Do we have any sunscreen?” Jason asked, head in his hands. Roy started to cackle. Jason’s head shot up.

“Hey!” He snapped. “It’s not like you’re any better off, mister ginger!” He snapped.

Dick looked thoroughly amused by the whole thing, but Jason figured he probably had a right to be. His skin was olive toned and clear, lightly tanned and no sun induced blemished to speak of. He probably barely needed any sunscreen, if he ever even did.

“We can buy some on the way muscle man, let’s go.”

+++

They did indeed stop for sunscreen before driving down to the beach. When they got there Jason covered all available skin in a thick layer of SPF 50. He caked it on so thick on his face that his nose looked white. Dick just shook his head and kissed Jason’s cheek. They walked down the beach towards the surf. It was rough and dark, and there weren’t very many people there. Of the ones who were there, very few were actually in the water. Jason glared down at the navy colored waves as they crashed in front of his feet.

“Now what?” He asked. He could already feel the sand seeping into his boots, crunching in between his toes. Dick toed off his converse and rolled up the edges of his jeans. He waded out into the sea up to his ankle.

“It dips here,” He said. “It gets really deep all of a sudden.”

Jason really should have expected what happened next. A scaly green hand, webbed and clawed, shot out of the surf and wrapped around Dick’s ankle, pulling viciously. Dick cried out, and lost his balance, falling into the water. The hand started dragging him down, but Jason got there first. He rushed forward, ignoring the water flooding his boots, and grabbed Dick’s arm. Whatever was pulling him was incredibly strong, but Jason wasn’t going to let that stop him. He was pulling on Dick, and Dick was trying to help, trying to pull himself out, but even their combined strength wasn’t enough.

“Roy! Get your ass over here and help us!” Jason snapped. Roy was at his side in an instant. He grabbed Dick’s other arm, and together they pulled him back until only his foot remained in the water. Jason gave one last vicious tug and the hand was ripped away from Dick’s ankle. Jason and Roy pulled him back onto the sand, and the three of them fell back. They scrambled away from the inky black water, and lay panting, staring at the deep, too shocked to move.

“What the fuck was that?” Jason asked suddenly, his voice rising an octave on the curse. Dick grimaced.

“That was the daemon.” He said.

“That was a the trial by water.” Roy added.

“Fucking great. That means it’s just swimming out there in the middle of all that too dark to be visible water, and we can’t kill it because we can’t fucking see it.” Jason groaned. He debating just unloading his guns into the surf, but he figured even with the mist the noise of the gunshots would probably scare the other people on the beach. Not that there were many, or that any of them were paying attention to the three of them at all.

“We have to draw it out.” Dick said, sitting up and looking out at the water.

“Well it sure seems to like you.” Roy muttered.

“Perfect, then we can use me as bait.” Dick said as he started to stand. He was still brushing sand off of his pants when Jason finally understood what he’d just said.

“What?” He snapped, shooting up and moving to stand in front of Dick. “No way Dickiebird. That thing may like your face, but I kinda like your face too, and I don’t want to see it at the bottom of the ocean!”

“You wouldn’t be able to see it if it was at the bottom of the ocean.” Dick muttered petulantly. Jason gave him a flat look. Dick rolled his eyes.

“Look, this is the only way and you know it, we just have to think of something that’ll keep me from getting in the water, and make sure the daemon gets out of it.” Dick looked around the beach, then at Roy. His mouth twisted into a sharp grin.

“I got it. I just wade in, just like before!” Jason could practically see the light bulb go off above his head. “When the daemon grabs me, Jason’ll make sure I don’t get pulled too far in, and Roy can shoot a rope arrow at it. Then all we have to do is pull her up by the bow. The rope’ll drag it out onto the sand, and we can kill it there.” Dick made it sound like it was the most brilliant plan he’d ever thought of, but Jason was already poking holes in it in his mind. Big, gaping swiss cheese type holes. The largest hole being, “What the hell is a rope arrow?”

Dick turned to Roy. “It’s an arrow that has like a rope or something attached to it, so you can swing between trees, or pull up barrels and stuff.” Dick replied, but Roy gave him a skeptical look. “Don’t look at me like that Roy, I’ve seen Apollo kids use them before, and I  _ know _ Oliver has several.”

Roy’s expression suddenly closed off.

“How did you know about Oliver?” He asked. At that exact moment Jason realized that Roy had never talked about Oliver Queen in front of Dick. He’d told Jason plenty, but he’d never said a word to Dick. Dick shouldn’t even know of Oliver, much less which kinds of arrows he used.

“My father’s Bruce Wayne. Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne are two of the richest men in the world Roy, they’ve met.” His sarcasm was truly a sight to behold. “I met Oliver at a Wayne Gala six years ago. He and Bruce have known each other forever.” Jason thought he could probably make swiss cheese of that explanation as well. Even if Bruce and Oliver ran in the same circles, when would Dick have had the time to get to know which kind of arrow’s Oliver used?

“And they know each other well enough that Bruce knows what kind of arrow’s Oliver shoots?” Roy asked, still suspicious. Jason thought he probably wasn’t going to let this one go any time soon.

“Well, yeah.” Dick said, the yeah sounding remarkably like duh. Jason didn’t really want to continue this conversation. He didn’t like the idea of distrusting his boyfriend. For as free as Dick was with information about his life, he rarely actually said anything, and Jason was starting to realize just how suspicious it was that he didn’t. Then again, Jason didn’t say much about his life, but that was a whole different story, and both Dick and Roy knew why. They knew he was from Crime Alley, and they probably had their own ideas as to why Jason was so against talking about his time there. His life wasn’t the same as Dick’s, who by all means had a great one, at least he did now. Jason understood not wanting to talk about your dead parents, but what about the parent that wasn’t dead? What about the life he led now? Jason didn’t know anything about it, and he couldn’t quite tell if that was weird or not. He hadn’t had enough normal relationships to know.

“Ok guys? How about we save the upper east side gossip for when we’re not trying to kill a psychopathic sea bitch who wants to eat Dick’s face off?” He asked, silently asking Ares for strength. Roy still looked perturbed, but relented.

“Roy, do you in fact have the weird rope arrows?” Jason asked.

“Yeah.” He admitted grudgingly.

“Great, Dickiebird, get your skinny ass in the water and try not to drown.”

Roy opened his bow case, and pulled an arrow out of his quiver, nocking it and pulling back slightly on the string. Jason gripped Dick’s biceps tightly and they waded into the water together. When Dick’s feet first hit the surf, the same green scaly hand shot out of the water. Jason used his grip on Dick’s arms to pull back against the daemon. The thing was strong, and it almost ripped Dick out of Jason’s arms, even despite Jason’s death grip. Just when Jason was starting to panic, an arrow embedded itself in the monsters’ wrist. It pierced scaly skin and shot clean from one end to the other, the arrow head coming out covered in thick green blood. A piercing screech erupted from the water. The daemon let go of Dick and and started thrashing against the arrow, trying to pull itself back into the sea. Roy’s grip on the bow was starting to waver, so Dick and Jason ran up to help him. When all three of them had their hands on the bow they pulled, and the most disgusting thing Jason had ever seen came sliding out of the surf. It was long and leathery, covered in green shimmering scales, with a long moss green fish tail and tentacles for hair. It’s eyes were large and black, and it opened a mouth full of razor sharp teeth to let out a horrible inhuman scream. Jason wondered how no one else on the beach was running screaming in terror from just the sight of the thing. He was man enough to admit that he wanted to. The daemon thrashed and clawed, hissed and spit, it’s tail flopping uselessly behind it.

“Jason!” Dick gasped out from where he was holding the bow with a white knuckled grip. “Shoot it!”

Jason didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the gun strapped to his right, clicked off the safety, cocked it, and fired. He fired three shots to the daemon’s head. The shots made a perfect triangle. The struggling stopped, and the line on the bow went slack. The daemon dropped to the ground immediately and didn’t get back up. A few seconds later it exploded into dust that blew away back into the sea.

“Well I’ll be the first to say it,” Roy muttered, still staring at the bloodied arrow head lying in the sand. “Fuck yes!”

Jason just cracked up.

+++

The boys left the beach almost immediately after killing the daemon. None of them wanted to take the chance of their being another one out there, or something worse. They headed back to the hotel, where Roy begged off, citing exhaustion and saying he wanted to go to bed early. Dick was the complete opposite, still hyped up on adrenaline from the fight. He wanted to go out and explore New Orleans. Jason said he’d go with him to keep an eye on him, but really that was only half the reason. He was excited for the chance to spend some alone time with Dick, even in the wet sticky heat of Louisiana. Maybe even especially.

They left the motel and started walking past the street. Dick looked into the window of almost every store they passed. He waved at a fishmonger, spent ten minutes combing through boxes labeled 50% off outside a bookstore, and looked in the window of every single occult shop they passed. He didn’t stop until they stood outside a small shop sandwiched between a small drug store and a boutique. It was another occult shop, unsurprisingly. A deep purple sign hanging out front read  _ Dorian’s _ in gold cursive. Dick looked up at the sign, smiled, and walked inside. Jason had no choice but to follow.

The inside was unlike anything Jason had ever seen before. It was simultaneously dark and bright, full of odd smells, jars of different plants and what appeared to be animal parts. There were several shelves of old looking books, and an entire section of the store was devoted to traditionally ‘magic’ items. Crystal balls, tarot cards, spell books, the whole nine. Jason eyed a jar full of what looked like eyes.

“Uh, Dickiebird?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we here?” Jason felt the sudden urge to open the jar and see if the eyes were actually real. He reached for it when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Dick shot him an amused smile.

“When I was still in the circus one of the fortune tellers, Alma Dorian, said she was leaving to move in with her husband in New Orleans. She said she was going to open up a magic shop, and that I should come visit her some time.”

“And this is her store?” Jason asked. Dick shrugged.

“Probably.”

“Dorian’s?”

“It was an educated guess.” 

“Ah,” Jason said, holding back a laugh. “I see.” They continued on their way through the store until they reached the counter. Dick rang the bell and they waited. It didn’t take long for a short woman dressed in layers of shawls and bangles to step out from behind the beaded curtain on the other side of the counter. She was a textbook mystic. Long dark hair threaded through with sparkling jewels and beads, lots of thick gold bangles and glittering rings adorning her wrists and fingers. Her eyes were decorated with gems and bright purple eyeshadow, and her lips were painted blood red. Her face lit up when she saw Dick.

“It can’t be!” She shouted, walking around the counter. She put her hands on Dick’s cheeks and he smiled. “Oh, but it is! It must be! My dear little Flying Grayson! How  _ are _ you baby?” She asked. Dick blushed and shrugged, laughing lightly at her enthusiasm.

“I'm fine, great actually, but, uh, I'd like you to meet someone.” He said, and gestured to Jason. “Alma Dorian, this is my boyfriend, Jason Todd.”

Alma looked Jason over with a critical eye. She was silent for a few moments, green eyed gaze roving over him, stopping at various points. She looked at Dick twice during her assessment, but he ignored her raised eyebrow in favor of studying a red petaled plant. Finally Alma reached up and put her hands on Jason’s cheeks, just as she’d done to Dick.

“My dear boy, I am so sorry for all that has happened to you,” She said, sympathy flooding her voice. Jason’s eyes grew wide and his eyebrows scrunched together. She smiled suddenly. “Do not be wary of your father. He has done much more for you than you could ever imagine. He loves you, dear.” She finished. She turned back to Dick with a large smile on her face.

“He is perfect, my dear boy. I very much approve. Come, you must join me for dinner.” She walked away behind the curtain, not bothering to look back and see if they followed. Jason stared after her, still in shock. Dick walked up to him and put his hands around Jason’s neck. He kissed him gently.

“Alma’s the real deal.” Dick murmured. “Haly only hired the best.”

Jason nodded, but didn’t comment.

“Come on, let’s go before she rescinds her invitation.” Dick grabbed Jason’s hand and led him behind the curtain. There was a relatively large room behind it. It had a small kitchenette, a twin bed, a dresser, and a door that led to what was most likely a bathroom. There was a small round table off to the side with three rickety wood chairs circled around it. Dick looked around with narrowed eyes.

“Alma, do you live here?” He asked, sounding suspicious. Jason remembered him saying that Alma left to go live with her husband and idly wondered what had happened. Alma barked out a laugh in response.

“No, dear, don’t worry. This little room came with the shop. I keep it furnished in case someone happens to drop by and doesn’t have a place to stay. Mark and I don’t have a guest bedroom after all. We live upstairs, but we’re renovating the kitchen, which is why I’m eating down here.” She ladled something thick and brothy into three different bowls. It smelled delicious, rich and heady. Jason sat down at the table, and Dick went to help Alma carry the bowls over. He placed one in front of Jason, and took the other for himself. He sat down next to Jason, and Alma took the seat across from them. Jason eyed the food, turning it gently with his spoon. It was a thick broth, and swirling inside it were large chunks of meat and vegetables. He took a careful bite of the meat, and was pleasantly surprised.

“This is amazing.” He exclaimed, quickly going in for another bite.

“Well you don’t have to sound so surprised hot stuff.” Alma replied, a small amused smile gracing her lips. She turned to Dick. “So tell me little bird, how have you been?”

Dick smiled. “I’ve been good.”

“Good, and how’s the circus?” She asked. Dick’s smile faded. Jason squeezed his leg gently under the table. Alma frowned. “What happened?” She asked.

“My parents, a man named Tony Zucco cut their line.” Alma gasped, her hand flew to her mouth, and tears sprung up in her eyes. “They fell, but I was on the tower so I was ok. Bruce Wayne took me in.” At this some of the light in Dick’s eyes returned. “He’s an amazing man, an amazing father. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Alma reached across the table and put her hand over Dick’s.

“And what happened to Zucco?” She asked, eyes hard.

“He was caught.” Dick replied, trying for brisk, but barely succeeding. Jason remembered when Zucco was caught. It was Batman that had put him away, Batman and his new partner, Robin. It had been in every paper, a huge bust. Tony Zucco had haunted Gotham for years, Jason himself had never met the man, but he’d been sure that it was only a matter of time.

“Good.” Alma said. They ate in silence for a long while after that, until she raised her head once more.

“I remember your parents well, little bird. They were great people, really, truly great. The best trapeze artist’s I’ve ever seen.” Her voice was choked full of intense emotion, and she was looking off into space, as if she could see them right before her eyes, swinging across the trapeze, dazzling the audience. She grinned suddenly.

“I remember when you were a baby, couldn’t have been more than three, and you would sit in my lap and watch your parents. You used to tell me, every single time, ‘That’s my mommy and daddy’. You would be so excited.”

Dick laughed, lowered his head, happily sad, a slightly embarrassed flush pinking his cheeks.

“Do you still practice the trapeze?” Alma asked. Dick’s eyes shone with a mischievous glint.

“Pretty much every night.” He replied with a smile.

+++

When they finally finished, Alma took their plates to the sink and then hugged them both. She held on to Dick a little longer, not shockingly. She pulled away with a watery smile.

“You keep in touch, boy.” She snapped at Dick, shoving a finger hard into his chest. Dick laughed.

“Of course Alma, I wouldn’t dare ignore you.”

“You better not be lying Grayson, I’m a psychic you know. I can make your life very difficult.” It was the emptiest threat Jason had ever heard.

“I know, Alma. Thank you for dinner.”

“Of course, little bird,” She turned to Jason. “Don’t think I forgot about you handsome. You better look after my boy.”

Jason smiled. “Of course Mrs. Dorian.”

“Please, it’s Alma. You boys be safe now, and don’t you dare be strangers.”

“Thanks Alma, we won’t.” Dick smiled back. The both waved, and with one last goodbye were out the door. Dick breathed in deep, the cool night air filling his lungs.

“I liked her.” Jason said, looking back at the shop. Dick nodded.

“Most people do. Now let’s get back to the motel, we have a land challenge to defeat.”

With that they started walking back to the motel, hand in hand. 


	8. The Monument of Heroes

It took them three days to get back to New York. Bruce complained the whole time about the gods jerking them back and forth across the country, and Clark honestly had to agree. By the time they got to the Empire State Building and found a place to park, he was a thousand percent done with driving. He shut the car door with disgust and looked up at the building. It was the second tallest building in New York, and it seemed to sway in the wind. Bruce, unlike Clark, was watching the people not the building. Most were harried office workers in suits, but others were dressed casually, all passing the two of them by with no regard for them or anything they were doing. It was one of the things Bruce liked best about cities. No matter what you did, people always had something more important to pay attention to. Cities were the only places someone as famous as Bruce could walk around without being seen. 

“All right, let’s go. We’ve got a sword to find.” He said, and walked into the building. A security guard sat at the entrance, absorbed in his book. Clark walked right up to him and said, “600th floor, please.” The guard looked up, an unimpressed look on his face.

“You know the rules kid, no one gets up without an appointment.”

“I don’t need to see any of the twelve, I just need to get into the Monument of Heroes, the museum. Can you please let us up?” Clark asked, gesturing to Bruce. The guard pursed his lips.

“Sorry, kiddo. No can do. There are rules for a reason.” He said, going back to his book. Bruce let out a frustrated huff.

“Look, it’s for our quest; Achilles himself sent us. We need to get up there, unless you want to be the one responsible for the death of the gods and the rein of Hecate.” Bruce growled, eyes narrowed. The guard’s eyes went wide, and he dropped his book and stammered out an apology.

“A-Achilles sent you?”

“That’s right, Paul Blart, now let us up.” Bruce snapped. The guard flared his nostrils, but nodded.

“Fine, fine, take this,” He handed over a key card. “and insert it into the security slot. And just, be discreet, all right? The gods don’t like people running around on their turf without a good reason. Just don’t bother anybody, please.” He looked haggard and annoyed, but Clark just nodded.

“Got it, thanks.” He said, not impolitely. Bruce, on the other hand, was already walking toward the elevator, having started ignoring the guard as soon as he’d given them the key. 

“You know, all the times we’ve been on one of these quests, we’ve never been to Olympus. I wonder what it’ll be like.” Bruce mused as the elevator door opened. Clark shrugged.

“Probably gorgeous and godly, like most of the god stuff tends to be.” He replied. Bruce inserted the card into the security slot, and a new red button appeared. The button read 600, and Bruce pushed it. The elevator started to move, and Rain Drops Keep Falling on My Head started to play.

“Probably. I wonder what the museum’s going to be like. Ooh! I bet they’ll have Odysseus’ bow! I’ve always wanted to see it.” Bruce enthused, lost in thought. Clark grinned down at him, and kissed him gently on the mouth.

“You’re such a dork.” Clark said with a smile. Bruce had a love of all things Ancient Greek, as was not very surprising. He loved the stories of the old heroes, and the Odyssey was his favorite. He, of course, loved the story of Hercules as well, as he could see many similarities between his boyfriend and the great lion slaying hero, but it was clever Odysseus that was Bruce’s real favorite. He was enamored with the idea of a human man who could accomplish all that Odysseus had. That a simple human with no godliness to speak of, only the favor of Athena and the power of his own wit, had been able to defeat countless enemies and return home to his beloved wife, Penelope. Bruce was a great admirer of cleverness, another not so shocking trait for a son of Athena, and he’d read the Odyssey several times because of it. Clark loved this about Bruce, he loved how dorky he was, and how overwhelmingly intelligent. Bruce was the smartest person Clark knew. Clark had met gods and heroes, monsters and humans, divine and mundane, and yet of all of them, he knew Bruce was the best. The cleverest. Bruce was something more than them, more than all of them. Clark could never be apart from him, he needed him too much. As the elevator continued up, and Clark continued to hold Bruce in his arms, he thought about his impending godhood, and for the first time he recognized Bruce’s mortality. Bruce might be the great son of Athena, but he was still mortal. Clark’s eyebrows creased, he couldn’t be a god without Burce. He’d mess up, he’d do something wrong, he knew he would. Bruce grounded him, advised him. Bruce was  _ necessary _ . The more Clark thought about it, the more he realized that an eternity without Bruce would be long and lonely, so very, very lonely.

Clark shook those thoughts from his head as the elevator doors opened. He vowed to think about them after the quest was over. After Hecate was defeated, then he would consider his impending immortality.

The elevator doors opened, and Clark’s breath caught in his throat. Before them was a long marble path, and at the end of that lay the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A large snow peaked mountain lay before them, and all around it were the beautifully intricate buildings of an Ancient Greek city. There were extravagant pavilions, large marble pillars, blazing fire pits, huts and houses, amphitheaters and colosseums, everything imaginable was seated delicately on one elegantly huge mountain. The mountain itself was forested, populated by olive trees and rose bushes among other things. Clark couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked down and could see the tops of Manhattan buildings just below the clouds, but above that lay an entire city. An entire city that had never left Ancient Greece. Bruce ran his fingers through his hair and let out a breath.

“Wow. This is, amazing. I mean, this is really the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” He muttered, completely flabbergasted.

“Gorgeous and godly,” Clark muttered. Bruce barked out a laugh.

“Yeah,” He mused. “Gorgeous and godly.”

They quickly made their way across the marble steps and into the city. They mostly passed huts and houses in the beginning, at the bottom of the mountain. Houses that were made of marble with grand pillars and beautiful gardens, and huts that looked more comfortable than they had any right to. They watched as wood nymphs weaved in and out of the trees, pointing at Clark and giggling to each other. Bruce watched everything they passed with wide eyes, taking it all in. Clark’s own gaze was mostly set foreword, looking at what lay ahead. As they got farther up the mountain they discovered more city-like things. They passed several coliseums and amphitheaters, along with more houses and some markets. They were offered different configurations of ambrosia or nectar. One particularly insistent woman wouldn’t let them leave until Clark had looked at all her shields. They passed several libraries, and Clark had to physically drag Bruce away from the last one.

“But I want to see what they have! I don’t know when I’ll be back, Clark, and I don’t want to leave until I see if they have Plato’s originals!”

Clark ignored him and used his enhanced strength to pull him along, but even then it was a challenge. A focused Bruce was a difficult Bruce.

“You know, this is going to be your home one day,” Bruce said suddenly. “You’ll probably live in one of these massive marble houses.” His blue gaze caught on a large white house with tall Greek pillars resting in front of it. There were children playing in the yard, and an older woman was watching from the porch, weaving a loom.

“Yeah,” Clark mumbled, eyes on Bruce rather than the scene unfolding before them. “I guess so.” He tried not to think about it, just as he’d promised himself, but it wasn’t that simple or easy. Now that he’d realized there was a kink in his plan, he needed to figure out a way to resolve it. He couldn’t leave Bruce, he wouldn’t. He just didn’t know what to do about it. Bruce was usually the one with the plan, but Clark knew this was something he’d have to do on his own.

+++

As a result of all the distractions, it took them longer than either of them would like to admit to get to the Monument of Heroes. It was worth the hike, however, as the monument was one of the most amazing buildings either of them had ever seen. It was a large marble building with tall Greek columns surrounded by flourishing olive trees and several different kinds of flowers. There was a beautiful sparkling pond just outside the monument, where young water nymphs were playing. There was a steady herd of people walking in and out of the Monument all circling around the large Greek-style statue at the entrance of Hercules battling the lion. Clark had to drag Bruce away from that, too. The Monument didn’t have a door, just large pillars blocking a large rectangular gape in the wall. Bruce and Clark entered carefully, wide eyes taking in as much as they could. Bruce was immediately drawn to the left, where there was a display of the original works of Plato, and Clark was drawn immediately to the right, where there was a display of the armor of the greats. Bruce was halfway across the room when he realized that he and Clark had been separated. He turned and looked around until he saw a mop of dark hair in the crowd. It was a good head taller than everyone else, and appeared to be examining a rather well preserved ancient set of armor. Bruce hurried toward Clark, careful to keep him in sight, and grabbed his arm when he was close enough. Clark turned back to him, a confused look on his face.

“Clark, we have to get to the weapons. I have a feeling this place is meant to draw us in and keep us here, kind of like the Lotus Casino. Just because we have good intentions, doesn’t mean we’re not still mortal. We weren’t made for it, we don’t belong here. This is Olympus, everything here is godly. We can’t afford to get distracted, not in a place like this.” Bruce’s hand slid down from Clark’s forearm to his palm, where he intertwined their fingers. Clark squeezed Bruce’s hand once and nodded.

“You’re right, let’s go.” They made their way through the monument, ignoring every exhibit they passed. There were exhibits for every time period, not just Ancient Greece. There was a close call in the Victorian section when Bruce got distracted by an exhibit on Charles Dickens, but Clark pulled him along and kept them walking. The weapons were in a small circular alcove all the way at the back of the monument. There was nobody inside when they entered, and Bruce set about examining the display, looking for the sword.

“It’s going by time period. Ancient Greece is going to be at the very beginning, over there.” He pointed towards the far left of the circle, where the timeline of weapons started. As they made their way over, Bruce followed the timeline all the way to where a polished bronze sword was proudly displayed. It was mounted on the wall, bold and shining. Though it was thousands of years old, it still shone as if brand new.

“That’s it, Clark.” Bruce said, breathless. That  _ was _ it. They were so close. They were standing before the one item that could save the world. They were standing right in front of their saving grace. Clark stepped up to it. He clenched his fist and flexed his massive biceps. He licked his lips and reached out, gripping the handle in one solid fist. A sense of rightness sung through his bones. He grinned as he pulled the sword off the display.  _ This _ was what he needed, this was the final piece of an elaborate puzzle slotting into place, he could sense it. Clark grinned, brandishing the sword in front of him and Bruce laughed, relieved finally that they had their grand weapon. Suddenly the sword was ripped out of Clark’s hand. It flew toward the center of the room, where a woman had suddenly appeared. The sword flew into her hand, and her furious eyes rose to meet theirs. She was impossibly pale, with pure black eyes devoid of irises, flecks of gold left in their wake. Her thick black hair was slicked back, it looked wet though it didn’t drip. Bruce knew immediately that this woman was no mere mortal, no mere immortal either. No, this was a goddess. Not just any particular goddess either, not with that hellish fury burning through her eyes. This was Thetis, mother of Achilles. Bruce bowed, Clark gave him a strange look but followed his lead.

“Greetings, Lady Thetis.” Bruce said. Clark followed along, understanding her significance immediately.

“Greetings,” He echoed. Thetis glared at them, not acknowledging their passive greetings. Bruce felt a pang of compassion. This was a woman who had lost her son, who could never speak to him again, despite knowing exactly where he was. This was a woman wracked with three thousand year old grief.

“What, in Zeus’ name, made you think you could come in here and steal what _is_ _not yours!_ ” She spat, her voice a horrendous scratchy sound where Bruce had been expecting melody. She was nothing like Achilles; dark and rough where he was bright and smooth, pale and imposing where he was sun kissed and kind. She was also livid, holding the sword in a white knuckled grip. She knew how to hold it as well. Bruce got the feeling that if they weren’t careful, they’d be joining Achilles and Patroclus in hell a lot sooner than they’d originally planned.

“Lady Thetis, please, we need that sword.” Clark said, hands raised in a placating gesture. “You know about Hecate, and what she plans to do?”

Thetis raised her head, black eyes narrowed into slits. “I am aware.”

“That sword is the only thing that can stop her. She’s going to kill the gods, then the demigods. She plans to rule humanity, and I am the only one that can stop her, but I need that sword.” He pleaded. Thetis laughed, a horrible grating sound, like the crunch of sand between your teeth.

“You puny demigods, always worried about your quests. I have news for you, hero, this will be your end. The grand quest of heroes is always their downfall. Your blood may not spill, but by the end you will wish it had.” She hissed. Clark’s lips thinned. He was getting tired of people warning him about something he didn’t have a choice in, something he was doing for the greater good.

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me, Hecate is hurting people, and she needs to be stopped.”

Thetis cackled once more. “Isn’t that always the case? The world is always ending, there is always someone malicious coming to kill the gods, coming to destroy the world, enslave mankind. Maybe we should just let it!” She was hurt and guilty and angry, and Bruce suddenly understood. He didn’t have the hinderance of three thousand years to stew, but he understood survivor's guilt. His parents had been murdered right before his eyes. He understood the taint it left on the soul. He understood the desperate yearning need to have back whomever it was that was lost. Thetis was consumed by her grief, and she’d had no one to pull her out of it. She’d hated her husband, Peleus, not that he’d lived much longer than their son, their beloved son whom she’d lost to a war she did not want him to fight in the first place. She had no one left. Bruce, on the other hand, had had the benefit of friends, of pseudo-family. He’d had Alfred to get him through the early days, a man who was as good as his own father. Later on he’d met Clark, and that had been what really cured him. Clark loved him unconditionally, despite all the tears in his heart, despite the cracks in his facade. Bruce thought Thetis could use someone like Clark, someone to love her. Someone for her to love. Bruce stepped forward, hands up warily in the face of the fury in Thetis’ eyes, and the razor sharp sword in her grasp.

“Lady Thetis, we’ve been to the Underworld, we have been sent by your son, Achilles. We told him about our quest, and he told us to tell you that he sent us, and that he requests you help us. He gave us permission to use his sword Lady Thetis, please, let us use it.” Bruce begged, blue eyes big and earnest. Thetis’ shoulders slumped at the mention of her son. The rage seemed to seep from her face, and was replaced with soul shattering sorrow.

“My son?” She whispered. “Achilles, he sent you?” She spoke his name like it didn’t quite fit right in her mouth. Like she’d gone years without speaking it, and couldn’t quite remember how to say it.

“Yes,” Bruce said. “He sent us.”

She didn’t respond, but she did lower the sword.

“I cannot just let you take it, it is all I have left of my son.” She said, her tone ridged and sad. Bruce made a noise of discontent and ran a hand through his hair. Her hesitance was understandable, but Bruce was desperate. Without this Clark could never defeat Hecate, but he would try, and it would be his undoing. Bruce always knew that he’d lose Clark to this quest, but to lose him to a death at the hands of Hecate would be unacceptable.

“Please, Thetis. I know Clark, he’ll fight Hecate either way, and without that sword he  _ will _ fail. Please! I’ve already watched my mother and father die, I can’t watch him die too!” His voice was choked and pleading, and Thetis watched with twisted lips and a torn gaze. She held on to the sword a moment longer, before kissing the blade and whispering to it. The bronze seemed to glow for a moment before fading. Finally, she held it out, and Clark cautiously stepped forward to grab it. When Thetis look back up, her gaze was once again narrow and cold.

“I have blessed the blade, it will kill the witch, but I expect it back in this hall as soon as she is dead.  _ Do you understand me? _ ” She hissed. She was every bit as malicious as the stories told her to be. Bruce and Clark both nodded.

“We understand Lady Thetis, I can’t even begin to express my gratitude.” Bruce replied, bowing once again. Clark followed his example and thanked her as well. Thetis gave them one last sweeping look, and turned her eyes to Bruce.

“You remind me of someone I once knew, another man similarly devoted to his god, his love,” It was obvious she was speaking of Patroclus, though she didn’t mention his name. “He was a good man, but foolishly devoted. Be careful of heroes, little one, they keep their eyes forward, alway looking for the prize, never turning back to see the carnage they have wrought.” She glared at Clark, as if his very presence proved her point. Bruce’s eyebrows creased. For as much as Thetis loved her son, she didn’t seem too happy about his past actions. Maybe it was just Clark she disliked, and his use of her son’s legacy, but Bruce got the feeling she’d grown to understand Patroclus a little more in the years since his death, and that she disapproved of how he’d died, and of Achilles accidental hand in it.

“Tell me,” She said suddenly. “Is my son, happy? Are he and his... and Patroclus, happy?” She asked. Her voice dipped on Patroclus’ name, like she didn’t know quite what to do with it. She’d gotten too used to hating him, and to have felt some sort of companionship with him towards the end made her uneasy. She hadn’t liked the idea of her son cavorting around with a human, a male human at that, but she’d long since gotten past it. There were other, more important things to focus on after Achilles’ death.

“They are,” Bruce replied. “Very happy, I think. They miss being a part of all of this,” Bruce gestured broadly to the weapons that lined the walls. “But they’re in Elysium, and they’re happy.”

Thetis seemed pleased by this, and a small hint of a smile graced her stony face. She took a deep breath, and a professional air seemed to shroud her all of a sudden.

“My son requested I help you?” She asked, though it was more a statement than a question.

“He did.” Clark replied. Thetis huffed in an exasperated manner, as if it was a chore she was loath to do. Bruce knew she would do it though; she loved her son, and she would do anything he asked, especially now when they hadn’t had any contact for so long.

“Aside from my blessing I can do one more thing for you. It has been years since I have been of any importance. Now I have been granted a small role in your much larger story, Clark Kent. I was furious at the fates for ever involving me in any of this when the first prophecy about my son was given. Now, I find myself almost grateful to them for not forgetting me,” She sighed, seeming almost sad. “If you come with me, I will complete my search. If Hecate is anywhere near water, I will know.” Thetis led the way back into the Monument, not looking back to see if Bruce and Clark were following. She led them all the way through until they were back outside. When she approached the pond, the sea nymphs scattered. She lay a hand gently on the clear blue water. Her hand made no ripples in it’s surface. She closed her eyes for barely more than a second, before they were snapping open once again.

“Hecate is near the equator. She is on an island off the coast of Miami. I can transport you to the city.” She said, pulling away from the water. “Once you’re there, you must get in a boat and sail east. Do not change course, just travel east until you hit an island populated by yew trees and purple flowers. This is where you will find Hecate.”

Clark grinned, and bowed furiously. “Thank you Lady Thetis, you have no idea how much this means to us.” Bruce got the feeling that if Thetis knew how to roll her eyes, she would have.

“I will warn you, the water you travel will not be safe. There is danger in the sea, more than anywhere else. There are creatures there more wicked than any other in the world. Be careful, little heroes.” With that she lay her hands gently on both their shoulders, and the next thing they knew, they were in a different place. They were standing in the middle of a city, the ocean to their left, close enough to hear. Bruce looked around, and noticed their truck parked out on the street in front of them. He smiled, Thetis hadn’t left them with nothing.

“Thank the gods for teleportation. I would’ve seriously been pissed if we’d have had to drive all the way down here.” Clark laughed. Bruce rolled his eyes and strolled over to the car, glancing inside to make sure all their bags were still there. They were.

“I’m just glad she brought us our weapons. Well, my weapons anyway.” They both looked down at the bronze sword still clutched in Clark’s fist. Bruce wasn’t sure what the mist had turned it into, but the people walking by didn’t seem to notice it. To be honest, they didn’t seem to notice them either, or that they and a large red truck just appeared out of nowhere. Bruce would never get tired of the mist. He gazed out at the ocean, hand above his eyes to block the sun.

“Come on Smallville, let’s go kill us a witch.” 


	9. Land Challenge

When they got back to the motel Dick made a beeline for his tarot cards, but Jason stopped him before he could.

“It’s almost eleven Dickie, let’s worry about that in the morning.” Dick gave in easily. He was rubbing his eyes and yawning, and Jason didn’t see any reason to make him do any more work that night. They stripped down to their boxers and climbed into bed. It didn’t occur to Jason until he was on the bed with Dick laying half on top of him that this was the first time they’d slept in the same bed together. They hadn’t been together very long, and maybe it shouldn’t seem like a big deal, but it did to Jason. In the whole world there were exactly two people that he trusted, and they were both in that motel room with him. Everyone else he’d ever met had either been trying to hurt him, or trying to get something from him. To have someone care about him was a new and exciting concept. To have someone fight beside him was even better. He’d been on his own for so long he didn’t know how to handle these new relationships, these people who actually gave a shit what happened to him. Jason held Dick close and closed his eyes. He liked this feeling.

+++

The next morning Dick used his tarot cards while they all ate McDonald’s pancakes for breakfast. Roy ripped up and dipped his, Dick slathered his in syrup and used a fork to cut them, and Jason cut his into meticulous little squares before covering them in syrup and eating them.

“So where to next, Dickiebird?” Jason asked, carefully skewering three squares of pancake on his fork.

“San Fran,” Dick replied through a mouthful of pancake. Roy groaned and thunked his head against the table.

“You mean we have to drive all the way over there?” He groaned. Dick snickered.

“That’s the way of the gods, sorry Roy.” Dick shrugged. With that they packed up and were on their way. It took them two days to drive all the way from New Orleans to San Francisco. Roy bitched the entire time about the drive. Jason got tired of listening to it, but he couldn’t really blame Roy. This whole driving back and forth thing was ridiculous. They made it to San Francisco on the night of the second day driving. They were on the outskirts of the city, driving past trees and in between mountains. Dick was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window, and Jason was next to him in the drivers seat. Roy, who’d been driving most of the way, was passed out in the back.

“I like it here.” Dick murmured. Jason glanced at him before looking back at the precariously lit road.

“I prefer the city.” He replied. He wasn’t sure if that was true, however. He simply hadn’t lived anywhere else, and wasn’t too sure of his ability to adapt. Besides, it was easy to hide in a city, where nobody paid any attention to anybody else. Jason liked it. Dick just sighed.

“Gotham has too much smog, it’s too dark. I like seeing a tree every now and again. You should visit Wayne Manor some time. It’s just one giant mansion surrounded by wilderness on all sides. It takes twenty minutes to get back into the city. I love it.” Dick said, eyes glazed over, staring out into the trees. Jason shifted uncomfortably. He liked Dick, he really did. He was happy to be dating him, and he wanted their relationship to last, but he didn’t know if he could go to Wayne Manor. At least not right away. That kind of wealth was something Jason had only seen on TV through the window of the electronics store at the corner of Crime Alley. He was the farthest thing from the kind of person the Wayne’s hung around, and he doubted Bruce Wayne would be too thrilled with his son hanging around with the likes of Jason.

“Maybe.” Jason replied, because it was easier than saying no. Just then Roy groaned from the backseat and sat up, blinking blearily at them. He sniffled and rubbed his face roughly.

“Pull over Jaybird, I need to take a piss.” He groused.

“Aye aye, captain.” Jason pulled the car over to the side of the road and put it in park. Roy got out of the car, and Dick settled further into his seat, closing his eyes.

“I think I’m going to take a nap, how much longer until we get to the city?”

“I don’t know,” Jason replied, idly playing with the domino's hanging from the rearview mirror. “Probably another hour or so.”

Dick hummed in reply, but didn’t open his eyes.

Roy had been gone for five minutes before Jason started to worry. Jason didn’t do anything at first, just looked back out the window a couple times. When he didn’t see the flash of bright red hair that would have signified Roy’s return, he got out of the car. Dick blinked blearily at him and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

“Roy’s not back yet.”

“So?”

“So he went to take a piss almost ten minutes ago. I don’t know about you, but I never take that long.”

Dick sighed, but grabbed his twin knives and got out of the car as well. Jason knew he was probably being paranoid, but when you were from Gotham, paranoid was just practical. Jason and Dick walked around the back of the car, heading down the road in the direction Roy had gone. Jason stopped before they’d gone too far.

“He wouldn’t have gone this far from the van, come on. Let’s go see if we can find him.” They shone flashlights into the woods and looked around on both sides of the road. Finally Jason started to call for Roy, and after a few minutes he got his answer.

“Hey, Jason! Over here!” Roy called, from just a few yards behind the van and into the woods. Jason and Dick exchanged glances, and walked cautiously forward, both keeping a tight grip on their weapons. Jason kept his flashlight up for them to see by. They hadn’t gone far before he saw the flash of red that could only be Roy. He jogged forward, Dick following close behind and came to a stop behind Roy.

“Dude, what the hell took you so long? We were worried about-” Jason cut himself off when he noticed they weren’t alone. Beside Roy was a short slender and very beautiful girl. She had long dark hair, and was barely dressed. Her only clothing was a short white dress that fell just past her knees. She was tan and didn’t appear to be much older than them. She had Roy’s wrist in a death grip, and glared at Jason as he approached. Something was wrong, Jason could feel it.

“Who’s this?” Jason asked. When Dick stepped up behind him the girl’s eyes lit up. She smiled widely at Dick, letting go of Roy’s hand in favor of taking a step towards him. Jason narrowed his eyes shifted to stand slightly in front of Dick, and the girl narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t seem like much, but they still had a land challenge to face, and she was very much on land.

“Guys, this is Natalie. She’s a wood nymph.” Roy said, gesturing to the girl.  _ Ahh _ , Jason thought. A nymph would explain the beauty and the middle of the woods thing. Nymph’s weren’t really dangerous, were they? But that didn’t seem to matter, she was acting suspiciously, and wood nymphs were very much land creatures. “Natalie, this is Dick and Jason.”

“Hello,” Natalie said, holding her hand out to Dick to shake. Dick glanced at Jason before cautiously taking her hand. Natalie did not shake Jason’s hand. “My sisters and I are having dinner in the woods, would you like to come, Dick?” She asked. Jason stood taller, puffing his chest out, and took Dick’s wrist in a tight grip.

“Sorry,” He said. “He can’t.”

Dick glanced at him, one eyebrow raised delicately, but he didn’t argue. Natalie, however, reacted strongly. She narrowed her eyes to glare at Jason, and clenched her hands into fists.

“He’s right, Natalie. I’m sorry, but we’re kind of in a hurry. We need to get to San Francisco.” Dick said, always the diplomat. Roy rolled his eyes.

“Sorry Nat, these guys are just a couple of dicks, no offense Dick,” Roy said with a glance at Dick, who huffed and crossed his arms. “I’d be happy to come have dinner with you and your sisters.” Roy offered, grinning widely at her. Natalie didn’t look exactly happy with the development, but she shrugged in agreement. Jason, on the other hand, shot Roy a half confused half annoyed look. Roy didn’t seem like the type to give in this easily to what was obviously a trap. Roy looked squarely at Jason and flicked his eyes toward Natalie, then waggled his eyebrows. His eyes were slightly glazed and his lids were half closed. He looked drunk.

“Maybe next time Roy, we’re kind of really in a hurry, remember?” Dick asked. He sounded a little desperate, like he understood what was happening, and Jason was starting to as well. The nymph had done something to Roy, used drugs or magic or something to make him more compliant.

“No, no, don’t worry. We’ve got time for dinner. I was hungry anyway, come on Natalie.” Roy started to tug on Natalie’s arm, and she took off suddenly, Roy running behind her. Dick gasped, eyes wide, and started sprinting after them.

“Dick!” Jason shouted, before running after him.

“She’s gonna kill him!” Dick shouted, not looking back. Jason growled, but just kept running. He ran until he couldn’t see Dick’s back anymore. After that he followed the sound of Dick’s footprints. He didn’t stop until the forest grew silent. Jason turned in a circle, heart pounding in his chest, looking for Dick.

“Dick!” He shouted, turning in all directions. He had no idea where he was, how far he’d gone, or where Dick or Roy were. He didn’t even know how to get back to the car.

“Shit!” Jason snapped, fist flying towards a tree. Pain shot through his fingers, but he ignored it. He forced himself to breathe and relax. He was no good to any of them if he couldn’t get himself under control. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, then he listened. He stayed still and silent and just listened, until he heard it. Faintly in the trees toward his right, a scream. The scream of someone in pain, the scream of  _ Dick _ in pain. Jason’s eyes shot open and he bounded off in the direction of the screaming. He started to hear what sounded like crying and then,

“Jason!” Dick was sobbing and screaming out his name. Jason ran faster.

+++

A few yards away Dick was trudging through the woods, shining his flashlight into every crevice of the trees. When he’d lost sight of Roy he’d stopped so Jason could catch up, but Jason was nowhere to be found. Even when Dick had turned and gone back, he was gone. Dick knew immediately that something was wrong, something more than just a trashy nymph trying to get into his pants.

“Jason!” He called, looking through the trees. He heard nothing for a few moments, and then suddenly he heard a clash. Then another. He heard the sounds of bodies slamming into trees and falling to the ground, of swords clanging against each other. He heard the sounds of a fight.

“Argh!” Jason’s voice. Jason in pain.

“Jason!” Dick shouted again, desperate. Nobody answered, just more fighting sounds. Dick started toward them, then stopped. This wasn’t right, there was something about the sounds that was off, something he was missing. He ran through the mental catalogue of monsters Bruce had made him memorize years ago. Something had separated them, and was now luring them somewhere. It hit Dick suddenly like a bolt of lightning; if it had really been Jason fighting, Dick would have heard gunshots, not swords. Jason may have only had his guns for a week, but his father had given them to him, and he loved them. He carefully cleaned and polished them. He’d used them in every fight so far. No, if Jason really was fighting then Dick would be hearing gunshots. Dick clicked off his light, best not to let anyone know where he was, and pulled out his knives, one in each hand. Since there were no gunshots, that meant that the voice he was hearing wasn’t really Jason, and it couldn’t just be that something had tied him up and was mimicking his voice, no because then there wouldn’t be any fighting sounds. So something was mimicking their voices. Dick guessed that if he was hearing Jason, then no doubt somewhere in this forest the real Jason was hearing Dick or Roy calling him, and the same went for Roy. There was only one thing Dick could think of that mimicked human voices the way this thing did. He pulled out his knives, one in each hand ready to strike, and crept slowly through the woods.

+++

A little ways away Roy was shaking his head to clear it. Something had been messing with his mind, making it sluggish and slow. He remembered the nymph girl who he’d been following through the woods, but somewhere along the way she’d disappeared and he wasn’t sure why or how. Something was wrong. Natalie had told him that they were going for dinner, but somehow Roy doubted that anyone was having dinner in the middle of pitch black woods. He didn’t even have a flashlight. Suddenly he heard Jason’s voice calling him.

“Roy! Come on asshat, where are you!” Of course they were looking for him, he’d just run off after some pretty girl like an idiot. Roy ignored the pang of guilt for getting them caught up in whatever this was. Obviously that nymph had just been looking to cause trouble, because now the three of them were lost in the woods alone.

“Jason! I’m over here!” Roy shouted, heading in the direction of Jason’s voice.

“Get over here! We have to find Dick!” Jason called back.

“All right, all right! I’m coming!” He made his way through the trees, heading for Jason’s voice. He felt terrible about getting them lost, and now Jason would no doubt be on edge about losing Dick. They might even end up spending all night looking for him at this rate. Roy sighed, this was going to suck.

+++

Jason kept running until he hit a clearing. He looked around, but there was no one to be found, and the screaming had stopped. He shined his flashlight into the bushes, but saw nothing. Jason sighed and rubbed his face. He’d come to the conclusion that something was screwing with him. It must be. Suddenly he heard a rustle in the bushes.

“Jason?” He heard Dick’s voice and he sighed.

“Yeah, Dickie, I’m over here.” The bushes rustled again, the sure sounds of someone walking. Twigs snapped and branches rustled. Jason’s heart started to pound for some unknown reason. This was Dick, he didn’t know why he would possibly be thinking otherwise. He reached down and put a hand on his gun just in case when suddenly Dick appeared from the bushes. Jason let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and relaxed.

“Thank the gods it’s just you. I honestly thought I was going crazy, I-” He was cut off when something slammed into him from behind.

“Jason!” He heard Dick shout. He felt something rake hooves down his back, ripping his jacket and barely breaking skin. He reached for his guns, but he couldn’t reach them around the things legs. The hooves kept stomping around his body, stopping him from being able to move.

“Die, motherfucker!” Jason heard the yell coming from his right, and suddenly the thing above him was gone. When Jason looked up he was greeted by the sight of Roy reloading his bow. When he looked to his left he saw Dick slashing at some kind of deer-lion thing. It had pretty much the body of a deer, but it had a mane and a wicked set of razor looking teeth. Jason didn’t know what the hell it was, but it was probably what had been screwing with him in the forest. He stood up and reached for his guns, ready to shoot the thing dead when he heard Roy make a surprised noise behind him, and turned just in time to see yet another one of the deer-lion things leap out of the trees. Jason cocked his guns and fired, but the thing managed to smack it’s hoof down on Roy’s left arm. Roy cried out in pain, and Jason fired three bullets to the thing’s head. The monster went limp, falling on top of Roy who wheezed, just before it turned to dust and drifted away. Jason turned around, getting ready to fire, only to see that Dick was lying under the thing, stabbing it through the ears with his knives. The thing collapsed on top of him, covering him with black blood just before it too turned to dust. Dick lay on the ground, breathing heavily, eyes wide and knives still clutched in white knuckled fists. Jason sat heavily on the ground, and rested his head against a tree. The three of them were silent for a moment before Dick called Jason’s name sharply. Jason turned to look at him, only to get clocked in the head by a set of hooves.

“Another one! Really?” He shouted, rounding on the thing. “This is just fucking excessive!” He snapped. The thing started running toward him, but stopped short, a red arrow appearing between it’s eyes. Jason groaned and leaned back against a tree, and watched the third fugly beast turn into a sandstorm and fly away.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, before any more show up.” Jason growled. He helped Dick up, and together the three of them headed back into the forest.

“What were those things anyway?” He asked.

“Crocotta,” Dick answered. “They mimic people’s voices.” Dick replied, and started to lead them through the woods. The car was parked to the east of the clearing, so he lead them east. When Roy asked how he knew where to go, Dick mumbled that his dad taught him. Jason’s eyebrows creased. He was tired and confused, and that answer made no sense.

“Why the fuck would Bruce goddamn Wayne teach you survivalist techniques? Is he worried you’re going to get lost in that big ass mansion?” He groused. Dick shot him a sharp look.

“He believes in being prepared.” He snapped, before walking ahead of them. Roy lazily socked Jason in the arm.

“Don’t be an ass. There’s a don’t bite the hand that jacks you joke in there somewhere, but I’m too fucking tired to figure it out. You feel me?” Roy asked, holding his arm in a death grip to stave off the pain and the bleeding.

“Yeah,” Jason sighed. “I feel you.” When they finally made it back onto the road, they were about a mile ahead of the car. Dick knew because he saw a mile marker they hadn’t gotten to yet. They walked back to the car, and all piled back inside. Dick drove, and Jason and Roy took turns tending to each other’s injuries.

“I’m too tired for the hymn right now dude, too weak, too. Maybe tomorrow.” Roy muttered as he roughly wiped peroxide over the cuts on Jason’s back. “Also, this is going to bruise big time, man.”

Jason just rolled his eyes and told him to get on with it.

Dick drove them the rest of the way to San Francisco, and got them checked in at a motel on the outskirts. He grabbed the room key, and they sluggishly made their way to the room. When they got there Roy face planted onto one of the beds, and Dick sat heavily in a cracked faux leather armchair. Jason was making his way toward the bathroom when their was a knock at the door. He groaned and hung his head.

“Who the hell could it possibly be?” He muttered as he turned around and made his way back to the door. Roy just grunted in response, and Jason was pretty sure Dick was already asleep. Jason opened the door to see a tall pale woman with lots of black eyeshadow and intricate tattoos crawling their way up her neck and down her arms. She was dressed in all black, and thin delicate looking black hair fell past her shoulders, almost to her elbows.

“What?” Jason growled, glaring at the uninvited guest. The woman cocked her head, as if confused. She didn’t say anything, and Jason was about to ask again when she finally responded.

“Well that’s rude,” She said. Her voice had a rough throaty quality too it, not entirely unpleasant, but very unsettling. “After all, you have been looking for me.” It took Jason all of five seconds to realize what that meant, but by that time it was already too late. Massive pincers had already sprouted from her back, and one had already struck out and stung him. Black started seeping into his vision. He reached for his gun, but his fingers couldn’t quite seem to get a hold on it. He saw her sting Dick, and he saw Roy dive for his quiver, but before he could reach it, she stung him too. She turned back to Jason and her red painted lips twisted into a grotesque smirk.

“Go to sleep, precious.” She snarled, and then his vision went black. 


	10. Deepest Desire

Bruce stopped them before they got down to the beach, and led them into a small convenience store. Clark shot him a confused look, but let himself be led inside. 

“If you need a water, I think there’s some left in the truck.” Clark said, looking around at the rows of sunscreen and beach balls. Bruce ignored him and simply continued down the aisles, not stopping until he reached the cosmetics section. He grabbed a small tin of wax and started walking back to the front of the store where the counter was.

“Why are you getting wax?” Clark asked as he followed Bruce.

“Because we’re prepared for pretty much every likely sea monster except one.” Bruce replied. Clark briefly thought through the list of famous sea monsters. Most were just beasts that could be easily killed, but there was one in particular that was more likely and more problematic.

“Sirens.” Clark practically growled the word. The sirens were vicious and deadly, undoubtedly, but more than that they led you to your death using your deepest desire. The thing you wanted most in the world. It was supposed to leave survivors with unparalleled wisdom, but Clark thought that was bullshit. Letting yourself hear the siren song was the kiss of death. You would see your greatest fantasy, and then stop at nothing to get it, leading you straight to the sirens. Clark went over his knowledge of sirens as Bruce paid for the headphones. He remembered what Odysseus had done; had his crew tie him to the mast of their ship so that he could hear the siren song and not be killed. Clark felt the vague urge to do the same, though Bruce would never allow it, Clark was honestly curious about what the siren song would show him. Not curious enough to test it, but still curious.

“Come on Clark, we need to find a boat.” Bruce started walking out of the store, and Clark followed. They got back in the truck, and drove down the coastline looking for a dock.

“Do you even know how to drive a boat?” Clark asked. Bruce snorted out a laugh.

“Of course I do, I’m a billionaire, it’s practically a necessity.” Bruce hadn’t driven them far before they spotted a marina full of a wide range of boats. There were cruise ships leaving one port, and a little farther down there was a mass of sail boats. They parked the car on the street, and grabbed their bags.

“Do you think we should send someone to come get it?” Clark asked, motioning to the truck. Bruce shook his head.

“No, we still might need a way to get back to New York. Probably best to just leave it.”

Clark shrugged and started walking down toward the boats. Bruce’s calculating eyes were roving over all their options. The sailboats were obviously out of the question, they were too small and would never get them far enough out onto the ocean, and commandeering a cruise ship was just stupid. Bruce chose a small yacht, one that wasn’t meant for more than a few people. He tugged on Clark’s arm and led the way down the beach toward the place where it was docked. There were a couple of people on the dock, though not many. A man selling a boat to a middle aged couple, a teenager messing with the ropes on a sailboat, and a fisherman sorting through his case. Bruce hopped on the boat without any sort of hesitation. He glanced briefly at the name, the SS Rosa, and then went about getting the boat ready to take off. Clark, however, jumped onto the boat with some hesitation.

“What happens if we can’t bring it back, or even bring it back in one piece?” Clark asked, and after a moment added, “You know this isn’t yours, right?" 

Bruce rolled his eyes, and untied the boat from the dock. “Of course I know that Clark, but I also know that I can pay for whatever damages might befall the unfortunate SS Rosa.” He replied. Clark sometimes forgot how rich Bruce was. It probably had something to do with the fact that Bruce didn’t act like most billionaire playboys did. Sure he was a bit of a pompous ass sometimes, and he could be fairly high maintenance, but he knew when to turn it off. Despite his usual high maintenance, he was perfectly capable of roughing it in the worst of conditions without complaining once. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty, and he was a better fighter than anyone at Camp Half-Blood. He was a bit standoffish, and he amped up the playboy thing at home, but he wasn’t like that with Clark. He was real with Clark, he wasn’t Bruce Wayne: billionaire, or Bruce Wayne: son of the great Athena, he was just Bruce. That was what Clark loved about him, and that was why he usually forgot about how high society Bruce really was. He deserved everything he had, and he worked hard for Wayne Enterprises. He designed important equipment, and handled a lot of the company on his own, and he wasn’t even eighteen yet. He deserved his way of life, but he didn’t flaunt it, and Clark admired him for it.

Clark sat next to the helm and watched as Bruce got the boat up and running. It seemed simple and complicated all at once, and Clark knew he’d never be able to replicate it. Soon enough the engines growled to life, and the water behind them splashed and churned, and then they were gone, leaving the dock behind them. Clark sat, facing the open sea, as Bruce steered silently.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” Clark asked suddenly. A small smile graced Bruce’s lips.

“Alfred taught me. My dad always used to talk about taking me out on the yacht, teaching me how it worked and everything, but I was always too young. After he died Alfred took me. I don’t think I was really old enough, but who was going to tell me no?” No one, that’s who. No one would deny anything to little Bruce Wayne, who’d just seen his parents murdered in right in front of him. Clark stood up and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. Bruce made a soft sound, but didn’t push him away. Bruce didn’t let Clark cling to him for too long though, after all he did have to drive them however far it was to Hecate’s island.

Suddenly it hit Clark like a ton of bricks. This was the end of the line, they were headed right into the belly of the beast, into the lion’s den. When Bruce stopped the yacht, they’d be on the island, and Clark would have to face Hecate. Clark looked over at the bag that held Achilles’ sword and swallowed hard. This was his last quest. When this was over Clark would be a god, and wasn’t that terrifying. He didn’t know if he was ready. He’d been working his whole life for this chance, but he was only sixteen. Did it matter if you’d been searching your whole life for something if your whole life only really consisted of ten conscious years? Clark hadn’t even known he was a demigod until he was eight. He hadn’t begun the trials until he was twelve. It all seemed to be happening too fast, but Clark would never turn it down. No matter how long he’d technically been working toward this, he wanted it, more than almost anything in the world. Clark looked at Bruce, blue eyes narrowed in concentration, forehead wrinkled, and lips pressed together; almost anything. This was the end of the line, but Clark honestly had no idea what would happen to Bruce now that they were there. Bruce was mortal, and he’d never been in line to be a god. He probably wouldn’t want to become one even if he was given the option. Clark needed to figure out a way to keep Bruce by his side, because he knew that if Bruce died, he would never be the same. He could practically see the events unfolding in his mind. Bruce dead and buried, spending his afterlife alone in Elysium. Clark up on Olympus, alone for the rest of eternity. They’d never be able to see each other again, so was the ways of the Underworld. Gods weren’t really allowed down there, and Hades wouldn’t make an exception for Clark, or even for Bruce. Clark thought about Achilles and Patroclus, so happy together, though they missed the fighting. They were together for the rest of eternity, and they were  _ happy _ . Then Clark thought of Thetis, who, despite thousands of years to get over it, was still deeply affected by the loss of her son. So much so that she guarded his sword on Mount Olympus. Clark didn’t think it was pathetic, no, he thought it was sad. More than that, he knew it would be him. He knew that if he was in Thetis’ place, he would be the same, if not worse.

Their impending separation was growing closer, and by the next day it would be reality. Clark needed to devise a plan before then, some way to get Bruce to stay by his side for all eternity, if he even wanted that. Clark swallowed hard, and forced himself not to think of that possibility. Bruce would want to, Clark was positive. He couldn’t afford to think otherwise. 

+++

They’d been sailing for little over an hour when Clark went down to the deck of the yacht to sit in the sun. He always felt better in the sun, he didn’t know why. It was probably thanks to growing up on a farm, surrounded by nothing but field and open sky as far as the eye could see. Clark closed his eyes and listened to the waves. He loved the sea, too. It wasn’t something he had in Kansas, but he’d gotten used to it being there at camp, and when he went to visit Bruce in Gotham.

Suddenly things got quiet, weirdly quiet. Sounds he hadn’t noticed, like the squawks of the seagulls, had stopped. Clark opened his eyes and looked around. There was nothing there but a far off rock, and they were heading in it’s direction. He looked back at Bruce up in the cabin at the helm, who was glaring out at the rock, lips twisted in uncertainty. Clark stood up and went to the edge of the yacht, trying to get a better look. He heard Bruce start shouting for him, and he turned to look back at him but he stopped. He heard it suddenly and all at once. First it was like a song, soft and luring, practically begging Clark to turn around. Clark did, eyes on the approaching rock, which now that he was looking was actually a lot bigger than he’d originally thought. Clark blinked heavily, squinted to look, and gasped at what he saw.

It was Smallville. The Kent family farm stood proudly, the house in tip top shape. A black haired little boy stood by the barn, giggling and stroking a horse. Clark was about to go to them when he got the sudden urge to look toward the house. What he saw there made his breath catch. It was Bruce, standing in the doorway. He was dressed in armor and was grinning at Clark.

“Come on, Smallville,” He said. “Time to go save the world.” He gestured for Clark to come inside. Clark followed him. The first step onto the farmland was heavy for some reason, and it felt like a much larger drop than it was. Clark ignored it, and started toward Bruce. 

“Come on, Clark, we still have time to eat before we leave.” He said. Clark couldn’t believe his eyes. This was amazing. Bruce lived with him, they saved the world together. They maybe even had a son? Clark didn’t know what was happening, why this all felt so new and so real at the same time. He started to run toward Bruce, and heard a splash behind him. He was momentarily confused, there was no water around, but he forgot his confusion in seconds. He ran faster toward Bruce, trying to get to him before he gave up and went inside on his own.

Suddenly arms wrapped themselves around Clark, legs coming up around his waist, effectively clamping onto him from behind. He didn’t know what it was, something, some monster, must be trying to stop him from getting to Bruce. Clark growled and lashed out, his elbow connecting with something, but he didn’t care what. In front of him Bruce sighed and raised an eyebrow at Clark.

“So this is how it’s going to be? Fine, I guess I’ll just have to take our son instead.” He called out and the little boy by the horses looked up. He ran over to Bruce, and Bruce picked him up and laughed. The boy turned to Clark and held his hand out.

“Come on daddy, we have to go save the world.” Clark struggled harder, kicked out against whatever was holding him back. Something knocked against the back of his head, hard enough to send him reeling and momentarily stop struggling. His head was shoved down and suddenly everything was gone. Instead all he could see was deep dark water and the bottom of a rock formation. Something was jammed into his ears, blocking out all sound until everything around him was so much white noise. He bobbed back up to the surface and finally realized what he was really looking at. The sirens were honestly horrifying.

Three women stood before him, though Clark used that word loosely. They were more bird than woman, with dirty black feathers, wrinkled necks, and large wicked looking talons. Only their heads were human, but the faces kept switching. Bruce, Ma, Pa, Chiron, all the people he knew and trusted, smiling reassuringly, still trying to lure him in. The only thing that kept them from completing the look was the blood and grease at the corners of their mouths. Remnants of whatever or whoever they’d last eaten. Clark turned away from them, turning towards Bruce, the real Bruce. The one who’d jumped into the water after him, the one who had shoved wax into his ears until he could no longer hear the siren’s song. Bruce who had a tender looking eye, and a split lip and who was glaring at him, angrier than Clark had seen him in a long time. As they swam back to shore Clark had to help Bruce. While Bruce was a fantastic swimmer, the water around the sirens was rough and choppy, waves smacking them from all sides and trying to pull them under. It was only Clark’s enhanced strength that kept him from having the same trouble as Bruce. Clark realized that Bruce had had to swim to him in this rough water by himself, no help, just the knowledge that if he failed Clark would die, and that just made Clark feel shittier. Clark helped Bruce up the side of the boat, and followed quickly after him. As soon as they were up they both started to shiver. The water was cold, and the wind wasn’t helping. Clark reached out, but Bruce ignored him and stalked off back to the helm. Clark rubbed his forehead and let him go. Best to give Bruce his space when he was angry, especially since they couldn’t even talk until they got past the sirens.

When the sirens and their rock had finally faded into the distance, Clark carefully removed the wax from his ears, and looked up toward the helm. Bruce was standing there steering the boat with a steely look on his face. Clark walked up to the helm and stopped in the doorway.

“Bruce…” He started.

“Don’t.” Bruce snapped. Yeah, he was pissed.

“Look, Bruce, I’m sorry, I-”

“For what?” Bruce shot back. “For being an idiot and not taking the wax with you? For swimming towards your death like a complete moron? For making me go after you? Or how about for elbowing me in the face?” Bruce growled, turning around and folding his arms across his chest. Clark was about to answer when Bruce held his hand up.

“Or, how about for the real kicker, making me see that your deepest desire is something that can’t ever happen!” He snapped.

“What? You, uh, you saw that?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Bruce rolled his eyes so hard Clark was surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

“Yes, Clark, I fucking saw that! That’s what happens when someone who isn’t being affected by the sirens touches someone who is!” Bruce was furious, but it wasn’t that he didn’t like what he’d seen, it was just that they could never have it. Not now, anyway.

“Bruce, I-” But Bruce cut him off again.

“What do you want, Clark? Do you want to be a god? Because if you do, that,” He pointed back toward where the sirens were nothing but a black dot on the horizon, “that can’t happen. I am  _ mortal, _ Clark. Do you not understand what that means?” This was something dangerous. This was something they’d both undoubtedly thought about, but that they’d never dared discuss with one another

“You really want to talk about this, here, now?” Clark asked, starting to get angry himself. He didn’t want to talk about this, he had no idea how to handle it.  

“Yeah, Clark, I kind of do. Want to know why? Because by the end of the day this quest is going to be over, and you’re going to have a decision to make.”

“A decision?”

“Yes. You’re going to need to decide between me, and godhood.” Bruce said, eyes ablaze. Clark crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

“You can’t ask me to do that.” He said. He didn’t want to decide. He didn’t want Bruce to ask him because he didn’t want to decide. This was an argument, a decision, that needed multiple weeks worth of thinking time. Time that maybe he’d had once, but not anymore.

“I’m not!” Bruce yelled. “It’s already happening! By tomorrow this decision is going to be made. You’ll either be a god, or you’ll be down here, with me and all the rest of the mortals.”

Logically Clark knew that. He knew this wasn’t Bruce asking him to do something he wasn’t prepared to do. This was Bruce asking him to do something he’d have no choice but to do in just a few short hours. They were on their way to fight Hecate. They’d made it past the sirens, and they had a clear straight shot to Hecate’s island. Clark would fight her, and he’d win, because that was who he was. He’d win and he’d have to decide. Clark turned around and slammed his fist into the wall. Bruce gave an exasperated huff behind him.

“I don’t want to do this.” Clark muttered.

“You have to.” Bruce replied, helplessly. Clark turned to look at him, and Bruce looked wrecked. He was distraught, sadness clouded his features. He looked like he might cry his blue eyes were so pronounced, and really that was the breaking point for Clark. He went to Bruce, and pulled him into a hug. Bruce’s hands fisted in Clark’s shirt and he shoved his face into Clark’s chest. 

“You have to decide.” He mumbled. Clark stroked his hair and didn’t answer. Maybe he did need to, but not yet. He still had a few more hours to figure a way out of this. To figure out a way to keep Bruce and be a god. He knew he would, because he simply  _ could not _ have it any other way.

“I won’t leave you,” Clark said, voice unwavering. Bruce pulled in closer in response.

“Is that your decision?” He asked. Clark knew Bruce wouldn’t let it go, and maybe now really was the time for this, but Clark wasn’t ready. Not just yet.

“We still have a few hours, and I won’t leave you,” Was all Clark said. Bruce didn’t reply. Clark thought he’d probably given up already. Bruce was more willing to sacrifice his happiness than Clark was. It was part of who he was, and it was something Clark admired him for, even if he hated it. If Bruce were the one making this decision, he’d give up godhood and stay mortal for Clark, of that Clark had no doubt. Clark, on the other hand, wasn’t willing to give up either. Maybe that made him selfish, but he didn’t particularly care. This was his life, his eternal happiness, he wouldn’t let the world screw him over. Not after all he’d done for it.

“I’m going to go get you some ice.” Clark said softly as he pulled away. Bruce’s eye was still pink, but it was starting to blacken. With Clark’s enhanced strength in the equation, they were lucky nothing had broken. Bruce just nodded and turned back to the wheel to pull himself together. Clark looked at Bruce’s ridged back, and sighed before turning to leave.

He looked all around the ship, and kept looking until he found a fridge below deck. He packed some of the ice from the ice tray into a towel and climbed back up to where Bruce was standing.

“Bruce,” He said. Bruce turned to look at him and Clark held out the towel. “You go sit down, I can steer for a while.” Bruce looked doubtful, which he had every right to be, Clark didn’t know how to steer a boat, but still, “It’s just a straight line Bruce. If I get stuck you’ll be sitting right here.” Bruce finally relented and sat at a small table covered in maps at the end of the cabin. Clark gently placed the makeshift ice pack against the impending bruise and pressed his lips to Bruce’s other cheek.

“I love you,” Clark muttered. He did, and he’d do anything to make sure Bruce knew it.  

“Love you, too.” Bruce replied. Clark went back to the wheel, content to steer for a while, and Bruce started looking over the maps, not content to be idle.

They were close to the end, Clark would be a god soon, and if the siren’s song had given him any kind of ‘unparalleled wisdom’, it was that he needed to find a solution and fast. The sirens hadn’t been wrong, Bruce was what Clark wanted most, but it would crush Clark to give up his godhood, to give up what he’d been fighting so long for. It was said that no one could have it all, but Clark fully intended to. He intended to have that house in Smallville with Bruce. He intended to have that dark haired little boy. He intended to take his rightful seat on Mount Olympus.


	11. Arachne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on these two, guys. I'm going to try and have the next two chapters up by Sunday to make up for it.

When Jason woke up it was dark and cold. He was blindfolded, but there was no light coming in from the bottom of the blindfold, and there was a light breeze brushing against him, making his arms prickle with goosebumps. He could hear quiet breathing on either side of him and determined that he was sitting between Dick and Roy. He was tied tightly to a chair with rope that rubbed his wrists pink and raw. There was nothing tying his feet. Jason clenched his fists and strained against the ropes but they didn’t have much give. Not much, but enough. He silently worked his wrists, trying to break free of the rope. Suddenly he heard clicking, almost like the sound of high heels stepping on polished floor, but not quite. He stopped moving everything but his hands, still working the rope. The clicking grew closer until it finally stopped in front of him. A hand pulled the blindfold away, and that was when Jason really saw her.

Arachne was truly horrific to look at. Athena had done an excellent job of making her the most unappealing thing Jason had ever seen. She had the body of a spider, a big fat round body from which protruded long furry legs that ended in what appeared to be fuzz coated talons. From her spider-body protruded the chest, head, and arms of a woman. The human side of her looked much like the person who had appeared at the motel; long thick dark hair, pale skin, webbing tattoos. The only difference was that her eyes were that of a spider’s, wide and round and pitch black. When she smiled, large curved fangs protruded from her gums.

She held Jason’s blindfold in her hand and studied him. Jason didn’t let himself look away from glaring at her, not even to check on Dick or Roy. He could hear them breathing and struggling, they were ok, no need to be checked on by him.

“My oh my, it’s so nice to see such a handsome face. I usually just stick to whoever’s nearby, but every once in a while I indulge myself.” She muttered, black gaze roving over Jason’s body.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jason spat. Arachne raised a pointed eyebrow and began to play with the blindfold.

“Oh, I know you know some of it, don’t play dumb dear boy.” She replied, twisting the blindfold in her hands.

“I know you stole Eros’ bow. What, got tired of being ass ugly?” Jason snapped. Arachne’s eyes flashed. He was getting on her nerves.

“As a matter of fact, I did. How would you feel if you had the ass end of a black widow attached to you for all eternity?”

“Probably pretty shitty,” Jason admitted. “But that doesn’t give you permission to fuck with people.”

“Perhaps not, but after however many thousands of years it’s been, I’ve discovered that I really don’t care.” She said dismissively. She tossed the blindfold aside and began to pace across the room. Her spider legs click-clacked against the floor, emitting an eerie sound that made Jason’s hair stand on end.

“I stole Eros’ bow because I want to be loved.” She said simply. Jason raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. She scoffed.

“Don’t be that way. It’s one of the great motivators you know. Love, revenge, power, grief, you’ve probably heard of them.” She drawled sarcastically. Jason rolled his eyes. She took a moment to look Dick over, and then clacked back over to Jason.

“Don’t tell me, that if that one over there was taken from you, you wouldn’t have some wickedly villainous thoughts of your own running around in that head of yours.”

Jason just glared at her. She snorted.

“That’s what I thought,” She went back to pacing the room. “Anyway, like I said, after however many thousands of years I stopped caring about petty little Athena and her mockery. I may not be able to undo her curse, but I can do other things. I stole Eros’ bow, and now I have a whole army of men who love me. Big strong men. Men more than capable of murder. Maybe even the murder of a god,” There was a manic glint to her eye. She really was pissed, and she was more than willing to do anything she could to get what she wanted. Jason could see the danger in this woman, how her loneliness desire for revenge had driven her to insanity. People like that were more dangerous than most, because they didn’t have anything to lose.

“Ok, so maybe this does have a little to do with revenge,” She confessed. “I always did hate that bitch Athena. Who turns someone into a spider for winning a _weaving contest_?” She snapped. “I mean, honestly. If she wanted to win that badly, she shouldn’t have challenged me in the first place.”

Jason arched an eyebrow. “I may be a little rusty on my Ancient Greek myths, but I’m pretty sure you challenged her.” He said. Arachne rolled her eyes.

“Who even remembers?” She snapped, obviously aggravated. “Anyway, motive aside, I’m still going to use my army of men to kill whoever I want. I think I’ll start with that talentless bitch, Athena.” She turned to Jason suddenly, a wicked smile on her face.

“Of course, while I do have my army, it doesn’t yet have a leader.” Jason didn’t like where this was going, _at all_ . “I have all these men at my disposal, but no one that is really truly _mine_ , you know? No one to lead my army. Put simply, I need the king to my queen.” She grinned down at Jason, whose lip curled.

“Good luck with that one, I don’t know too many half-spider people.” He shot back. Arachne laughed, and turned to walk away. Jason shot a glance at both Dick and Roy. Dick’s hands were almost out of his binds, and Roy was having a harder time with the rope, but he was making progress. All of them were stripped of their weapons. Jason tugged sharply on his ropes and felt them finally give. He unraveled them, but didn’t let them drop. Arachne turned around, holding Eros’ bow unloaded in one hand. It was truly a beautiful bow. Large and grand and made of solid gold. The arrow Arachne held in her other hand was elegant with a beautifully carved ruby head. Arachne knocked the arrow, but before she could draw it back, Jason launched himself at her with a shout. He slammed into her spider legs, unbalancing her and knocking her to the floor. He snatched Eros’ bow from her grip and threw it aside. He heard the scraping of chairs and knew Dick and Roy were free. Arachne shoved Jason off and scrambled back.

“Attack!” She roared. Suddenly, out of nowhere, came dozens of men. All large and bulky, carrying clubs and rakes and other odds and ends weapons. Jason whipped around to help, but Dick and Roy had already jumped into the fray. Roy had grabbed Eros’ bow and was beating people with it. Dick gracefully jumped from man to man, knocking them out with a swift punch or kick. He grabbed a club, and Jason looked away, content in the knowledge that they were handling themselves. Jason stood before Arachne, who was struggling to her feet. She was having difficulty regaining balance on her spider legs, and Jason launched himself at her again. He threw a punch, that she narrowly dodged, just happening to move in the right direction. She was surprisingly fast for someone who was carrying around the massive bottom half of a spider, but she was still slower and less graceful than Jason. He kicked out and managed to catch her in the face. She reared back and struck out with one of her front legs, slashing Jason across the shoulder with a razor sharp talon. Jason cursed, but didn’t relent. He ducked as another one of her legs slashed out. He dodged and weaved, trying to avoid her talons and get some hits of his own in at the same time. He struck out, getting her a few good times, but she was truly difficult to fight.

Jason lept back and let her come at him, dodging at the last moment and letting her skid across the floor and into some of her own army, knocking them down like bowling pins. Jason picked up a stray pitchfork and charged her, slashing down across her chest. Three long cuts appeared starting from just under her breasts to down into her spider stomach. Arachne screeched in fury, eyes blazing with hate.

“You will bow to me demigod!” She roared. Jason just flipped her the bird. Infuriated, Arachne charged him, fists balled up in fury, legs scratching and destroying the ground as they ran. She hit him dead on and he flew back, landing on his shoulder and skidding across the floor, the pitchfork flying from his hands. Jason groaned as he realized his shoulder was dislocated. Arachne strode up to him, licking her lips and grinning. Jason staggered back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Roy get hit, and Dick rush to help him. Then Dick looked up and at Jason. He realized the gravity of the situation immediately and ran to help Jason. He slammed his club into Arachne’s back legs, and down she went, falling ungracefully on her ass. Dick ran to Jason’s side.

“What is it?” He asked, eyes wide and face flushed. He was sweaty and speckled with blood, some of it his own, stemming from cuts on his cheeks and chest.

“Arm,” Jason panted. “Dislocated.”

Dick nodded and got into position.

“On three,” He muttered, eyes locked on Jason. Jason, on the other hand, was looking straight at Arachne as she tried to get herself back up. They needed to go more for the legs. She was a spider, but she was too large to have much balance.

“One,” Dick whispered. Jason took a deep breath and clenched his fists.

“Two,” Jason started to take another breath, eying Arachne who had just got her balance back and was starting toward them when Dick popped his shoulder back in. Jason cried out and breathed heavily through his nose. Dick patted him once on the back, then stood up, facing down Arachne with nothing but his measly club. That was still better than what Jason had been doing, Jason hadn’t had anything to fight with. Dick faced off against Arachne, wielding the club expertly, another new skill Jason couldn’t figure out how he’d learned. Arachne got a few good hits in, slashing her talons wildy, raking across Dick’s body, but Dick held strong.

Jason looked around, Roy was single handedly fighting off Arachne’s army. Dick had helped him take care of a good number of them, and he was finishing off what was left.

When Jason finally had enough control over the pain ricocheting up his shoulder, he joined Dick in the fight against Arachne. Two against one was much better odds, and Dick and Jason started winning. Jason unbalanced her by knocking down her legs, then Dick went at her with the club, slamming down on her everywhere he could. Her face was black and blue and bloody, her body covered in bruises and cuts. For a fraction of a second Jason lost his focus, debating finding the pitchfork and helping fight her off with that. It would be easier to kill her with, after all. Arachne took advantage of his lack of focus, and slammed her body into Dick, throwing him back and knocking him against a wall. Dick slumped to the ground and groaned.

“Dick!” Jason shouted, looking back. He wasn’t watching Arachne, suddenly more concerned with whether or not Dick would ever get back up, and he didn’t notice the talon heading straight for him. Arachne roared and thrusted down, slashing Jason across the chest, dazing him, then stabbing him straight through the heart. As Jason fell to the ground, everything started to go numb. The light started to bleed from the world, everything turning spotty and black. He coughed up blood, and heard what he thought was his name, but it didn’t make sense, nothing made sense. The last thing he saw what Arachne’s beady black eyes and her triumphantly evil face grinning down at him, and then everything was black.

+++

“Jason!” Dick screamed, watching as Jason fell to the ground, blood gushing from a wound in his chest. There was so much of it, and it was coming so fast, forming a pool around him as he fell. Arachne laughed, head tipped back in glee.

“Oh well,” She mocked. “He was handsome, but I could always find another king.” She turned to Dick. “How about you, pretty boy? Want the job?” She asked. Dick stood slowly, silently, eyes blazing with fury. He picked up the club sprinted towards Arachne, raising the club above his head with a mighty roar. He saw a momentary flash of fear in Arachne’s eyes, but he barely comprehended it. Everything was bleeding red around the edges, his eyes were locked on Arachne with no regard for anything else around him. He slammed into her, knocking her legs out from under her, and slammed down on everything he could. She was already weak and bleeding, and so he smashed the club into her weakest parts. He slammed it down on her face, her already bruised ribs, smashing and smashing, ignoring the wet noises and the sharp snapping of bones. He wouldn’t stop, eyes blurry, face red and wet. He screamed, shouting nonsense as he smashed her face to pieces. He didn’t stop until finally she turned to dust, then he slammed the club into the ground one more time for good measure, and dropped it.

He turned around and there Jason was, lying in a pool of his own blood, completely still and not breathing. Dick’s breath hitched and ran to him, dropping at his side.

“No, no no no,” He cried. He didn’t hear or notice Roy’s approach. Nor did he notice that all the still conscious members of Arachne’s army had come back to themselves, and were walking around looking confusedly at their fallen comrades and bloodied clubs. Dick held no regard for any of that. He simply pulled Jason into his arms, and stroked a hand over his blood matted hair. His eyes weren’t closed, like they were in the movies. No, his blue-green eyes were wide open, staring up at nothing. Dick tried to pull them closed, but when the lids popped back up he sobbed. He clung to Jason’s body, letting his head drop to Jason’s chest. He was getting blood all over himself, in his hair, on his clothes and his face, but he didn’t care.

“Roy!” He shouted suddenly, head rising from Jason’s shredded chest. He looked up to see Roy standing right next to him, face morphed into a frown, eyes red and moist, but not yet crying.

“Fix him!” Dick sobbed. “Use the hymn! Fix him!”

Roy just stared down at them both, pity and sorrow swirling together in his eyes.

“I can’t, Dick.” He said quietly, kneeling down opposite him.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Dick snapped, furious.

“The hymn only works if-” He cut himself off regretfully. “I’m so sorry Dick. The hymn only works if he’s still alive.”

And that, Dick couldn’t handle that. He tilted his head, as if the very idea of Jason being dead confused him.

“Dead?” He croaked, fresh tears falling from his eyes. Roy didn’t say anything, just looked away. Dick wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, though. He only had eyes for Jason. Jason who was still staring into nothing, blood still leaking sluggishly from his unmoving chest.

And suddenly an idea started to form in Dick’s mind. A grin found it’s way to his face, and he laughed at Roy.

“He’s not _dead_.” He said gleefully. Roy looked at him wearily.

“Dick, I know this is hard, but- but _he is_.” Roy said meaningfully, but Dick just shook his head. He looked down at Jason and smiled, hand once again stroking through dark hair.

“No he’s not.” He repeated. “Not yet. Go, take Eros’s bow to Chiron.”

Roy didn’t move, just stared down at Dick doubtfully, like he was insane.

“Go!” Dick snapped. Roy waited a moment longer before going to grab the bow from where he’d dropped it earlier. He went hunting for the quiver and arrows, and when he found them he headed to the door. He looked back once at Dick and Jason’s body, wrapped up together on the floor, and dashed out. Dick looked down at the body in his arms. Jason wasn’t dead, he simply couldn’t be. Dick wouldn’t let him be. He would use everything in his power, his parents, the gods, everything. Everything he could do, he would do. Jason was not dead, because Dick wouldn’t allow it.

Dick tipped his head back, opened his mouth, and screamed out, “ARES!”

Ares appeared almost immediately. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were rimmed with red and his breathing was shallow. He approached them both, and kneeled before Jason’s body.

“My son,” Ares cried, taking Jason from Dick and hugging him close. Dick’s eyes were red, and tears still leaked from the corners. His face was pink and blotchy, and he couldn’t breathe right.

“Please,” Dick whispered. “Please, Lord Ares, there must be some way to save him. There must be something you can do!”

Ares’ eyes were closed. He didn’t reply immediately, but when he did he opened eyes of fire. Rage rolled off of him in waves.

“I cannot do anything,” He said, voice dangerously calm. Dick opened his mouth to respond, when Ares held up a hand.

“I cannot, you understand. But you can.”

Dick stopped short, and looked at Ares warily curious.

“How?” He asked, eager to know but uncertain. Playing with fire like this was dangerous for mortals.

“You know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?” Ares asked. Dick’s eyes widened.

“Of course, but that only worked because of Orpheus’ skill with a lyre, I don’t have any talent like that.”

Ares smiled, a wicked plotting smile. “Not true, Dick. You are capable of charmspeak.”

“But that doesn’t work on gods!” He sputtered. Ares shook his head.

“Not necessarily. Charmspeak in its most rudimentary form doesn’t work against gods, but my dear Aphrodite made you very powerful in that respect. More than that, I can bless you, amplify your power even more. This should allow you to trick Hades into letting you take Jason home in the same way Orpheus took Eurydice.” Ares said, getting eager now himself. He thought for a moment before adding, “And bringing up your father might help too. After all, Bruce was always a favorite of Hades’.”

Dick nodded, it was true. Sometimes Hades would build weapons for Bruce in the Underworld, or send him packages of pomegranate. Bruce never used or ate any of it, because once you’d taken something from the Underworld, you could never leave it. When Dick was younger Alfred told him that Hades had tried to tempt Bruce away from Clark once, while Bruce was in his early twenties. He’d tried to trap Bruce in the Underworld like he had Persephone. Alfred also told Dick that he thought Hades was still trying. The pomegranate was proof enough.

“I’ll do it.” Dick said, without a shadow of a doubt. Ares nodded. He put a hand on Dick’s head and muttered some words in Ancient Greek. Dick felt power flow through him, similar to a sugar rush. He felt like he could leap mountains, run miles, defeat gods. He grinned up at Ares.

“Now, I’m going to send you to Orpheus’ entrance to the Underworld. It’s in Central Park, and you have to play music to get it to open. Leave Jason’s body nearby, he’ll need it when he gets back.”

Dick nodded, and pulled Jason close.

“Oh, and Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t look back.” With that, Ares snapped his fingers and Dick was suddenly in Central Park. Dick looked around and noticed that there was something carved in the tree directly in front of him. The name Orpheus, in Ancient Greek letters. Suddenly the prophecy made complete sense to Dick.

_Children of lovers beware the mistakes of lovers past._


	12. Toxic Island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic depictions of violence ahead. It's a lot of sword fighting but it's against magic and gods.

Bruce knew Hecate’s island the second he saw it. It wasn’t overly large, not really boisterous the way he’d expected it to be. It was a small tropical hideaway covered in yew trees and sprawling purple flowers, which Bruce recognized as belladonna. A chill went down his spine. The island was silent, oddly silent. There were no animals, Bruce realized. No birds singing in the trees, no fish off the coast, not even any bugs. It appeared that Hecate’s island was an island in a very literal sense. She had isolated herself from everything in the world, every living thing. 

Bruce stopped the yacht’s engine as close to the island as he dared, and went to go find Clark.

Clark was strapping the sword of Achilles to his belt when Bruce found him. He was already dressed in classic greek armor, but he wore no helmet. Clark didn’t like helmet’s, he thought they blocked his vision. Bruce, on the other hand, enjoyed their anonymity.

“Don’t touch anything.” Bruce said as he geared up. “The island’s covered in poisonous plants. I don’t recognize everything, but I think that’s because some of it’s extinct.” Bruce said, eyes on his gear. Clark grunted in reply but didn’t say anything. Bruce glanced at him. He really did look like a classic Greek hero. The perfect physique, the otherworldly appearance, the armor, it all combined to make him look just like the statues of Hercules, of Achilles. Bruce swallowed hard. This was the end game for them, this was probably one of the last times Bruce would ever see Clark. He was unfathomably grateful that he got to see Clark at his best.

“Come on, Smallville, let’s go.” Bruce smiled at Clark, and led the way to the edge of the yacht. Neither of them hesitated before they were jumping over the side and into the cool clear water. They swam the short distance to the shore, and walked onto the sand. The plants were everywhere, silently warning people away. They nearly reached all the way to the water. The yarrow reaching out in clumps toward the ocean. Bruce put a hand on his sword as he walked forward.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Bruce asked. Clark was silent for a moment.

“Kind of, I can feel the magic, it’s in the center of the island. Just keep going straight and I think we’ll make it their eventually. The island’s not very big, it shouldn’t take long.”

Bruce nodded, and let Clark lead the way. They had to be careful when they walked, the plants reached out at them with enticing brightly colored foliage, but with every new plant they came across, Bruce recognized it as poisonous. There was wolfsbane, hemlock, larkspur, plants that didn’t even belong on an island nestled between ones that did. When the plants started to grow too close together for them to be able to walk a clear path, Clark started slashing at the foliage with Achilles’ sword. Different colored saps and berry juice oozed out over the sword as Clark continued slashing.

“She really doesn’t like visitors.” Bruce muttered. Clark grunted, and they continued walking.

After a while the leaves started to thin, and Clark suddenly stopped and crouched down. Bruce crouched next to him and they looked out between the bushes. There, in the middle of a large clearing, stood an Ancient Greek temple. It was large and elegant, made almost entirely of white and purple marble and gold. There was a fountain in front of the building with a statue of a woman holding two torches while a dog played with a serpent at her feet. The fountain drained out into a long crystal clear moat that wrapped around the temple. There were fish swimming lazily around the moat, the first sign of life they’d seen on the whole island, no doubt just as poisonous as everything else.

“I doubt going through the moat is a great idea.” Bruce said, eyes locked on the brightly colored fish. Clark nodded.

“Yeah, that’s definitely deadly. I could jump over it, though.”

Bruce gave him a bizarre look. “What?” He asked, in complete disbelief.

“Yeah, I can jump over it. I can probably carry you while I jump, too.” Clark said absentmindedly, like he was trying to figure it out in his head. Bruce shook his head and sighed.

“Alright, I guess it’s time to test that incredibly precarious superjump of yours.” They walked out of the bushes, careful not to let anything touch them, and stopped a little ways before the moat. Clark moved to pick Bruce up, but Bruce shot him a glare.

“No one finds out about this, ok? No one.” Bruce threatened, voice low. Clark, on the other hand, was trying not to laugh.

“What? You don’t want anyone to know about your Disney princess moment?” He asked. Bruce’s eyes narrowed even further, and Clark raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“Ok, ok. No Disney princess moments. Come on, grumpy pants.” Clark moved to pick Bruce up, and this time Bruce let him. He wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck and held on tight as Clark started to run. He kept running until he was just over a yard away from the moat, and then he jumped. They sailed over the water, Bruce clinging to Clark for dear life. When Clark landed he skidded a little, and worked to keep his feet from tripping over themselves. He wasn’t used to jumping with that kind of momentum, and his landing was too unstable. Bruce had a deathgrip on the back of Clark’s shirt.

“That was stupid and I’m never doing it again.” Bruce muttered, as he slowly let go of Clark. Clark snorted and dropped him carefully onto the ground. Bruce straightened himself out, his face the picture of distaste.

“I’ve decided I don’t like that.” He said.

“Which part, the bridal style or the jumping?” Clark asked.

“Both.”

Clark smiled, but let it go. They grew more serious after realizing the temple was right in front of them.

“This is it,” Clark muttered, caught off guard. He thought he’d be ready to do this, but he wasn’t. Not really. He didn’t know if he was old enough to be making the kind of forever decision that this was, but his readiness didn’t matter anymore. He was quite literally at the mouth of the lions den.

“No guards,” Bruce said, looking around. “That’s strange, but then again, she knows we’re coming. She’s probably got them all guarding her.”

They crept carefully through the temple doors, which stood wide open, giving them both an uneasy feeling. Inside the temple there is a long winding hallway with lots of wrong turns and doors that all looked the same.

“The temple isn’t big enough for this,” Clark realized, putting a hand on one of the doors.

“Magic. Don’t go anywhere but straight.” Bruce said. “And stay close to me.” True to his word, Bruce walked straight. He didn’t take any of the side hallways, and didn’t even touch any of the doors. Clark followed him, trusting that Bruce knew what he was doing. The hallway seemed to get longer and longer, and Clark got the feeling he wasn’t moving anywhere at all, until finally he walked straight into a wall.

“Shit!” He backed up, clutching his nose, which had taken the brunt of the impact. Bruce stepped up, ignoring Clark’s sputtering, and put a hand on the wall. It didn’t look like a wall, it was charmed to look like there was more of the never-ending hallway in front of them. Bruce ran a hand all over the wall. He felt up on the sides, and across on top and bottom in smaller and smaller increments until he felt it, a door. There was a thin gap between the one section of the wall and another. Bruce shoved against the right side of the door, and it barely budged.

“Clark,” He said. “Push this open.” Clark walked up behind him and shoved, the door moved, slowly coming open with the sound of rock scraping against rock. When Clark finally pushed the door all the way open they were greeted with the sight of a throne room. There was a woman sitting in a large marble and gold throne. Belladonna flowers grew all around her, keeping anyone from getting too close, and there was a large dog lying at her feet. She was beautiful in a frightening sort of way. She had long dark hair and glowing purple eyes. Everything about her screamed danger.

Bruce had been right about the guards, there were dozens of them, all standing around her. The guard weren’t really guards though, they were witches. Dozens of young women, each with intricate celtic looking tattoos, and glowing purple eyes.

“Welcome! Welcome!” Hecate laughed. Everything about her mannerisms was warm and welcoming. That was, if you could ignore the poisonous plants growing all over the place, and the witches with the murderous looks on their faces standing all around her.

“Finally! The great Clark Kent and his little bodyguard. Greetings, son of Athena.” She smirked down at Bruce, whose hand clenched on his sword. Hecate didn’t move from her throne.

“Hecate,” Bruce nodded.

“I have, of course, heard of you both, and of your little quest.” She bussied herself by feeding the dog at her feet little slices of apple. “I let you onto my island by the way. Usually the waves are not nearly as forgiving to visitors. I wanted to see what you brought to the table. I can now say that I am thoroughly unimpressed.” She looked down at them with an amused look on her face. “Really, Mr. Kent? A sword? To fight me? How adorable.”

Bruce almost laughed. She knew about them, but she didn’t know about Achilles’ sword. She probably didn’t even know about the prophecy. She didn’t know what they could do to her.

“My good looks aside, Lady Hecate, I still must challenge you.” Clark said, a wry smile lighting his face. “I’m afraid it’s my duty.”

Hecate sighed. “Yes, I suppose it is. It’s truly too bad that I must kill you then. I really do like you both.” Finally Hecate stood, a sword materialising in her hand. The witches around her started to advance.

“I will fight you, Mr. Kent, if your dear lover will fight my coven.”

Clark was hesitant to agree. He didn’t know or really want to know what Hecate would do if he didn’t agree. Maybe she’d kill Bruce immediately, maybe she’d disappear and they’d have to find her again. In the end though, the choice was Bruce’s. Clark looked to him, but Bruce had eyes only for Hecate.

“I agree.” Bruce said. Hecate laughed and immediately the witches were on him. Clark didn’t have time to help, or make sure Bruce was ok, because Hecate shot lightning at him. Clark drew Achilles’ sword and used it to block the lightning. Whatever blessing Thetis had put on it was working, the sword was blocking the magic. Hecate screamed angrily and snapped her wrist at Clark. Suddenly his shirt was on fire. Clark yelped and hurriedly tore it off, but it was too late. There were already burns laced across his stomach. He growled and leapt at Hecate, sword in hand.

+++

When the witches came at Bruce they came from all sides. Bruce pulled out his sword, and slashed at them as they advanced. He skid across the floor, aiming for knees and ankles, never aiming to kill. These weren’t monsters, these were people, mortals, and Bruce wasn’t about to kill them. He slashed down at one, creating a big gash in her arm, and threw shuriken out at two more, hitting them in their weak spots. Another one came at him, screeching something in latin, and Bruce dodged to the side just as the floor he’d been standing on melted and boiled, then he reared back with a roundhouse kick to the ribs. The witch went down, and three more flanked him at once, overpowering him. Bruce fell to the ground, fists landing across his body. He heard more latin and started to feel pain spiral up from his abdomen. He slashed in a circle, cutting deep into the ankles around him. The witches screamed and fell to the ground. Bruce staggered to his feet and threw a handful of shuriken, watching them spiral in different directions, each one hitting it’s target.

+++

Clark leapt at Hecate, and slashed down with the sword, catching her shoulder and cutting off a large chunk of skin. Hecate roared at him, and shot a blast of energy at him. Clark blocked too late with the blade and the energy clipped him, burning his shoulder. Clark held the blade in one hand and blocked the energy, shoving back until Hecate fell backwards. She cried out as she fell, crashing into the yarrow at the foot of her throne. The wolf-dog finally stood, and ran at Clark. Clark backed away and dodged. The dog managed to sink its teeth into Clark’s calf and growl, but Clark slashed down with the sword, slicing across the dog’s pelt. He desperately didn’t want to hurt the animal, but once he saw the purple smoke seep from the wound he realized it was just made of magic, and he wasn’t so hesitant anymore. The dog ripped its teeth from Clark’s leg and it’s fangs morphed into those of a snake.

“Like it?” Hecate panted, coming up behind the dog. “It’s my own little magic mix. Sic him, boy.” She snapped, and once again the dog leapt at Clark. Clark knocked it aside with his strength and held out the sword. The dog snarled and crept toward Clark. It feited left and then ran at him. Clark was ready for the dog, but he wasn’t ready for the bolt of lightning that Hecate flung at him from behind. Clark cried out, and fell forward. The dog chose that moment to leap at him, and landed on Clark, knocking the blade out of his hand.

+++

Bruce was fighting against a witch, sword clashing against sword, when two came up from behind and grabbed his arms. They wrenched his arms back, holding him still, and knocking the sword from his hand. Another witch walked up to him smirking, her hand sparked with crimson colored magic. She started hissing out words in several different languages, intertwining them. The magic grew in her hand, and she lashed out, punching Bruce in the gut. It felt like being punched by the Hulk. The magic enhanced the punches she threw, hitting Bruce with the force of several people instead of one. Finally as she reared up to smack him, he threw his head back and knocked into one of the witches behind him. She let him go and he leaped out of the way of the red fist. Instead the fist connected with the witch he’d headbutted. Bruce twisted the arm of the other witch who was still holding him, popping it out of it’s socket. He punched the witch until she was down, out like a light. There were only five witches left, and they advanced on him, each with different colored magic sparking around them.

+++

Clark struggled against the dog, punching and dodging snapping jaws. Finally he got a good enough hit in that the dog was dazed. Clark grabbed his sword and slashed, cutting the dog’s head clean off. Purple mist oozed from the wound, and the dog dissolved, leaving nothing but smoke. Hecate roared and leapt at Clark, shooting fire and plasma and lightning, everything she had, at him. Clark dodged as much as he could, using the sword to parry some of it away. When she got close enough her sword once again materialised, and their blades clashed together.

+++

Bruce made short work of the rest of the witches. He threw shuriken, hitting them in their weakest points, then he punched or kicked, knocking them out. He slashed at some with his sword, making long cuts in skin, but never doing enough damage to kill. He knocked out the last witch and looked around quickly for Clark. He was caught in a sword fight with Hecate, and he didn’t look too good. He was covered in burns and cuts, blood seeping from too many wounds. Bruce rushed to help but was stopped by a barrier. He pounded on it, but it was made of pure energy, and it wouldn’t let him through.

“Clark!” He screamed. Clark couldn’t hear him.

+++

They fought roughly, equally matched. Clark would strike to the left and Hecate would be right there to stop him. Hecate would strike down, and Clark would be right there to block her. They fought for Clark didn’t know how long, each getting in a few solid hits, until finally Clark twisted and stabbed and struck Hecate in the stomach, Achilles’ sword sliding through her like a hot knife through butter. Hecate dropped her sword and staggered back, falling her her knees. She stared down at the sword imbedded in her stomach, leaking gold ichor, like she couldn’t quite believe it. She flashed hate filled purple eyes at Clark.

“One day, demigod,” She spat. “One day I will return, and  _ I will kill you! _ ” She hissed out the words before she turned to dust. Bruce appeared at Clark’s side. He was breathing heavily and bleeding from all over. He was covered in mottled purple bruises, and he was walking and breathing funny, the way someone with damaged ribs would. Clark took Bruce’s face in his hands and looked him over, surveying him to see how much damage there actually was. Deciding that he was well enough, Clark kissed him. It was light and chaste, they didn’t have time for more.

“Let’s get the fuck off this island.” Clark muttered. Bruce let out a pained laugh and nodded.

“After you, Smallville.”

+++

When they got back to the boat Thetis was waiting for them. She stood in the surf, and looked better than the last time they’d seen her. Bruce couldn’t tell whether it was the water, or something else, but she looked better. She held out her hands and Clark placed Achilles’ bloodied sword in it. As soon as the blade touched her hands it was instantly cleaned. 

“Thank you,” She said. “Not only for this, but for killing Hecate, and giving this sword something to fight. It was built to fight, not to sit in a museum and collect dust.” She gave it one last gaze, full of love and sorrow, before she handed it back. Clark gave her a wide eyed look.

“Take it,” She said. “It was built to be the sword of a god. Achilles would be proud.”

Clark took the sword and bowed. “Thank you, Lady Thetis, thank you so much.”

She gave a brisk nod. “Yes, you’re welcome. When you’re a god, you’re going to owe me a favor.”

Clark nodded. “Of course.” He said.

“Good, now, I’m going to teleport you and your things to New York. It hardly seems prudent to let such a hero make the journey back while wounded.” She snapped her fingers and suddenly they were in New York. The red truck was parked on the street, their bags inside, and they stood at the front doors of the Empire State building. Bruce felt a sudden weight settle in his stomach. This was it, this was the moment Clark would have to decide. This could be the end of Clark’s mortality.

Clark looked at Bruce and suddenly an idea struck him. It seemed to simple, so elegantly simple, that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. He grinned down at Bruce and kissed him hard.

“I’ve got it,” He said. “I’ve got the answer.”


	13. Way Down We Go

Honestly, Dick should’ve been the one to think of it. Orpheus and Eurydice, of course. The dead girl and the man who loved her so much he couldn’t help but go after her. Of course things didn’t work out so well for them, so Dick would have to do better. Luckily for him, he’d already heard the story, and he knew the ending. All he had to do was keep walking, never look back, never doubt. Doubt is what caused Orpheus to lose Eurydice forever. He couldn’t turn around. It was that simple. Of course the simplest things were always the easiest to screw up. 

Daylight was waning and the park was beginning to become shrouded in shadow. People were disappearing for the night, and the drunks were settling in with their newspaper blankets. Dick looked around and noticed that their backpacks had appeared a few feet away, hidden by a bush, thanks to Ares no doubt. He laid Jason down gently where he was completely hidden by the bush, along with the backpacks. It was getting dark, so it was unlikely anybody walking by would see Jason, but the bush was still a welcome hiding spot either way. It wouldn’t do to have someone discover a dead body in Central Park; that would be a nightmare to explain. Especially if said dead body suddenly woke up. 

Dick walked over to the tree, and examined the letters. Orpheus had needed to play music, but Dick didn’t have any instruments on him. He looked around, trying to see if there was something he could use as a makeshift instrument, but of course there was nothing. Instead Dick opened his mouth and sang. 

_ “Doina din ce s-o facut? Dintr-o gura de mic prunc. L-o lasat maica dormind, L-o aflat doina zicând,” _ he sang softly. It was an old Romanian lullaby his mother used to sing to him sometimes. He barely remembered any of it, and what he did remember was choppy and off-tune. Dick liked to sing sometimes, but that didn’t mean he was especially good at it. No matter the dubious quality of his voice, the ground beneath the tree crumbled away and revealed a long dark dirt path. The path to the underworld. Dick took one last look at Jason’s body lying in the bush, before quickly starting his descent into hell. 

There was nothing interesting for the first half hour, just a long dirt tunnel, and the smell of rotten eggs. Dick got used to the smell after a while, and was able to move his hand from his mouth. He trudged along through the endless dark, moving his hand along the crumbling dirt wall to keep his balance, until finally he started to see an orange light up ahead. He’d walked a few more feet before realizing this was probably the bright white light most people talked about. The bright white light you see before you enter Heaven, except this light wasn’t white or angelic in any sense; it was orange hellfire. Dick swallowed hard, but continued on. The walls got wider, and he began to notice bones woven through the dirt. Skulls snarled at him from the walls, the eyes seeming to move with him. A dark unsettling feeling began to overcome Dick, and his stomach churned nervously. Sweat began to bead at his temples from both the heat and the nerves, he quickened his pace as hands and femurs reached out toward him. Dick wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep out of reach of the bones. He didn’t know why, but he got the feeling he wasn’t supposed to touch them.

At the end of the tunnel was a large fire basin. The flames crackled ominously and Dick watched it warily as he walked by. He’d never been to the Underworld before, so he didn’t really recognize anything, but Bruce had been several times and had a detailed map in the Batcave. He’d made Dick memorize it just in case, and though Dick had thought it ridiculous at the time, he was more than grateful for it now.

The nice thing about Orpheus’ entrance was that it let you out past the main gates, which meant no dealing with Cerberus or Charon. It was pretty much a straight shot past the Fields of Asphodel to Hades palace. Dick couldn’t help but look at the fields as he passed them. They didn’t look like much, though that was the point. They were pretty much exactly what they claimed to be, fields. It was just miles of endless wheat, with lonely souls trudging through them, lost in every meaning of the word. Dick thought the fields were an unnecessary punishment. Just because someone had never done anything particularly bad or good didn’t mean they should have to lose themselves for all of eternity. Dick had friends who’d never done anything noteworthy, and he didn’t particularly want them to end up there. Dick shook his head, that wasn’t the point of this little excursion. He forced himself to walk faster toward the palace. 

It didn’t take him much longer to get to the entrance. There were guards there, and they watched as he stopped in front of them. Bruce had said once that the guards were only a problem the first time you visit the palace.

“Who are you?” The guard on the left asked. They were both classically dressed Greek soldiers, and they spoke to him in Ancient Greek.

“Richard Grayson, son of Bruce Wayne. I’m here to see Hades.” He said. He usually didn’t like name dropping Bruce, unless he really had to. He figured this was one of those times when he really had to. The guards exchanged a glance and moved aside.

“Enter, son of Wayne.” Dick wasted no time, and hurried into the palace. What he found made him groan. The palace was, of course, a dark winding maze. Dick really hated when Bruce was right. Thankfully he’d made Dick memorized the layout of the palace as well, and Dick moved quickly and efficiently through the castle, never second guessing himself. 

He made it to the throne room in five minutes. 

Hades and Persephone were sitting at their thrones, deep in conversation. She was picking at a pomegranate, eating the seeds absentmindedly as she spoke to Hades. They were really just as larger than life as Bruce had said. Persephone looked like a model, all sleet flawless skin, paled by centuries without sunlight, and Hades looked like he should be leading Spartans to the Thermopylae pass, rough and handsome, but massively terrifying. They looked up as he entered, and regarded him carefully; Persephone with judgement, and Hades with undisguised interest. 

“And who might you be?” Hades asked. Dick stood tall, not letting himself waver.

“My name is Dick Grayson. I’m a son of Aphrodite, and the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. I’m here to ask a favor of you, Lord Hades.” Dick silently reminded himself that the gods liked heavy doses of lord and lady.

Hades grinned down at him, a far away look in his eyes. Persephone on the other hand, was fuming. 

“You are the son of my dear  _ ómorfos _ ?” Hades asked. Dick’s eyebrows furrowed. Hades must mean Aphrodite, because he was fairly certain  _ ómorfos _ meant beautiful, however with the way Hades had examined him upon his entrance, Dick got the sinking feeling he meant Bruce. Dick thought back to all the arguments Bruce and Clark had gotten into about the Underworld, and how Bruce had made sure Dick was more than prepared for any Underworldly eventuality. As his entire world seemed to shift, Dick was given an entirely new perspective on Hades and Bruce’s relationship. He knew that Bruce had had multiple dealings with the God of the Underworld in the past, but he’d never realized quite how…  _ close _ they were, or at least how close Hades seemed to think they were. 

“I am, Lord Hades.” Dick replied cautiously. Persephone really didn’t look happy, and making her happy was in fact half the battle. Hades was the ruler of the Underworld, but Persephone was his wife, no matter how little that seemed to mean to him.  

“It has been years since I last saw my dear  _ ómorfos _ . He’s been avoiding me, I assume,” Hades said, confirming Dick’s assumption that it had been Bruce that Hades was talking about, and not Aphrodite. “Though to be fair, our last meeting did not end favorably.” 

For a moment Dick was worried, worried that whatever had transpired between Bruce and Hades would stop him from ever being able to save Jason, but Bruce had assured him that Hades was an ally. An ally he didn’t want, but a valuable one nonetheless. 

“It is of no matter, however. I will always be willing to help my dear Bruce, no matter the decade that stands between this meeting and our last. What is it you ask, Mr. Grayson?” 

Dick steeled himself. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, and Hades probably wasn’t going to be happy about it. 

“My friend, Jason, was killed only a few hours ago by Arachne. He was trying to save me, to save everyone. Arachne was going to raise an army of men to do her bidding, and in stopping her, Jason was killed.” Dick took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I have come to ask you for Jason’s soul, so I can take it back to Earth and he can live again.” 

Hades appeared to be as close to dumbfounded as it was possible for a god to look. Persephone, however, finally looked interested. 

“No one has asked for such a thing since Orpheus.” She said, finally looking at Dick with something other than contempt. 

“I know, your highness. I don’t come purely for selfish reasons. Jason is a good man, and he didn’t deserve to die so soon.” Dick said. Hades was silent, contemplating. He was frowning now, obviously uncertain. Gone was the dangerous but fond smile as he had doned when talking about Bruce.

“Why?” Hades asked suddenly. 

“What?” 

“Why do you want to bring back this man, Jason?” He asked again. Dick tried to hide his confusion.

“Because he doesn’t deserve to die, he is a good man. He-”

“No,” Hades cut Dick off, growing agitated. “I am aware of the valor of this man, you have already attested to that, and I know every soul that passes through my Underworld. Why do  _ you _ want him back? What made you come all the way to hell for the soul of a man you barely know? I’d advise you not to lie.” 

Dick bit his lip, “Because I love him.” He said softly. Hades raised an eyebrow, signaling him to continue.

“It’s true, I haven’t known Jason for very long, but I have fought by his side several times, and I am a child of Aphrodite; love comes easily to us. He is a good man, and I have fallen for him completely. I have never met anyone like him, and I would never forgive myself if I let him die and did nothing to stop it.” 

Hades leaned back in his chair, and looked to Persephone. She had been enraptured by Dick’s confession, nostalgia overtaking her gaze, but now she turned to her husband. Her husband who gruffly cleared his throat, and began to speak.  

“When Orpheus came to me and asked for the love of his life I was charmed by his music, and I agreed. You have come, with the name of a man I greatly admire,” There was an unsettling glint in his eye when he said that. “And a profession of a love too great for your age.” 

Dick’s lips thinned. 

“What more do you have to offer me?” Hades asked. 

Well shit. 

Dick really hadn’t thought about what he’d do if Hades said no. 

“I have nothing of substance, Lord Hades. I killed Arachne, saved the world and the gods, and I all I ask is that you give me back the only thing I have ever wanted for myself.” He said, eyes blazing. He didn’t know what else Hades wanted him to say, he had nothing left to give. Hades nodded, still silent. 

“Oh, Hades, give him a break. He’s only asking the same as Orpheus, and he’s done more to earn it than Orpheus ever did. Killing Arachne? That is deserving of some leeway in my opinion.” Persephone said, rolling her eyes. Dick honestly hadn’t expected her help. She hated Bruce. 

Hades sighed, “I suppose you have a point Persephone, but a point does not make a bargain. I’ll give you the same deal I gave Orpheus: Jason will follow you to the surface, but don’t look back, or you will lose him forever. I only ask one thing in return,” Hades said. Dick nodded.

“Of course, Lord Hades.” 

“You will owe me a favor. Whenever I need it you will have to do exactly as I say, or I will send your Jason right back to hell,” Hades said. Dick shuffled nervously. One of the first things Bruce had ever taught him was not to make a deal with the devil. He’d been speaking metaphorically, of course, but Dick figured the idiom probably applied to the literal devil as well. However, Dick had run out of options. Hades wasn’t going to bring Jason back without something of substance, and as Dick had nothing concrete to offer him, a deal was all he had left. He swallowed hard, and nodded. 

“I agree Lord Hades, I will owe you a favor,” Dick replied. Hades sat back in his chair, a wicked grin on his satisfied face. 

“Good,” he said. “And tell your father to come visit me, I’ve missed him.” Hades said. Persephone scoffed and went back to her pomegranate, interest finally lost. Dick tried not to think about how terribly  _ that _ conversation was going to go, and agreed. 

“Yes, Lord hades, I will.”

Hades nodded, “Good, then go, and do not look back until you reach the surface.”

So Dick went. He walked out of the palace, and past the guards. He walked past the fields and back toward Orpheus’ entrance. He didn’t know if Jason had been following him the whole time, if he’d just joined him, or if, gods forbid, he wasn’t following at all. Dick was tempted to look back, just a mere second to see if Jason really was following, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He’d heard the story too many times to look. He wasn’t going to be like Orpheus, he refused to. Heart pounding, ears ringing, heat from the hell fire blasting him from all angles, he made his way to the dirt tunnel, and up he started to climb. The skulls peered at him as he walked by, and voices he hadn’t heard before echoed through the tunnel. They were all saying the same thing.

_ “Look back!” _ They hissed. It had to be the skulls, or maybe there were souls trapped here, Dick didn’t know. But gods did they tempt him, just one peek was all it would take. Just one glance, one split second…

“No!” He snapped, forcing himself not to look. He couldn’t, or he’d lose Jason forever. Hades had been clear. He’d been true to his word with Orpheus, why wouldn’t he have been with Dick? Dick moved faster, practically running out of the tunnel. He needed to get to the surface, he needed to know. The tunnel grew thinner, and the bones disappeared, though the voices remained. Dick ignored them, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He trudged through the dirt and nearly cried with relief when he saw sky. This was the final moment, this was when Orpheus had turned back and ruined his life. Dick wouldn’t make the same mistake. He’d made it this far, he wasn’t going to look back now. Dick jogged the last few steps until he was through the tunnel and back on the surface. Stars and a navy sky greeted him. Dick took four more steps, making sure he was in the clear. He heard the tunnel crumble closed and finally he turned around. 

There he was, Jason, his transparent body floating an inch above ground. He looked past Dick to where his body lay, and went to it. He seemed to lie down, his body absorbing his soul. His body healed before Dick’s eyes, wounds stitching closed, and the color returning to his skin. A stripe of his hair paled and became white before Dick’s eyes, but the rest of it remained as pitch black as it has always been. Then he opened blue-green eyes and moved to stand. He turned to Dick, shock evident in his eyes, and Dick rushed to him, wrapping his arms around Jason’s neck and burying his face in his chest. Jason wrapped his arms tightly around Dick’s back, holding him close and not letting go. 

“Jason,” Dick cried, tears slipping through squeezed shut eyes. 

“Dick, fuck, I can’t believe you did that.” Jason said. He was shocked, he couldn’t believe he was alive, solid. He remembered dying, he remembered Elysium, and how he couldn’t believe he’d actually made it there. He remembered following Dick’s back all the way up and out. He just couldn’t believe any of it had worked. 

“Shit, Dickie, you’re such a dumbass.” He said. Dick smacked the back of his head. 

“I got you out, didn’t I?” He asked, voice muffled by Jason’s t-shirt. Jason’s laugh was shaky and filled with disbelief. 

“Yeah, I guess you did.” 

It was a while before Dick finally pulled away.

“Come on, we need to call Roy, tell him what happened. He has Eros’ bow. I told him to take it to Chiron.” Dick said, leaning down to rummage through his backpack. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Roy’s number. Roy picked up on the second ring.

“Dick?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Did you get Jason?” He asked hesitantly. Dick knew he’d been acting insane after Jason’s death. Jason had been dead, and Dick had lost his mind. He’d been so sure there’d be a way out, and even though there had been he knew he owed Roy an explanation.

“Yeah Roy, I got him. It’s really him too, straight from the Underworld.”

“You went to the Underworld?” Roy asked, incredulous.

“Maybe?” 

“You’re a dumbass.” 

“That’s what Jason said.” Dick laughed. 

“Well he’s right,” Roy was silent for a moment. “Shit, I can’t believe he’s actually alive.”

“Me either.” Dick said softly. He smiled when he felt Jason’s hand land solidly on his shoulder. 

“Look, we’re coming back to camp, what happened with Eros’ bow?” Dick asked.

“Chiron told me to take it to Olympus. I’m on my way to the Empire State Building now.”

“Ok, we’re in Central Park, so we’ll meet you there.” 

“Sounds good, see you Dick.”

“Bye, Roy.” Dick hung up the phone and turned to face Jason. He put a hand on Jason’s cheek, feeling the warmth and the softness of real skin. He sighed out a smile.

“To Mount Olympus we go.” He said. Jason’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Are you serious?” He asked.

“Yup, looks like the gods want the bow returned in person. Come on, we have to go meet Roy.” Dick picked up their packs, and handed Jason his. Jason shouldered the pack, still in shock.

“Ok,” He muttered. 

~~~

Jason couldn’t believe a lot of things right now. He couldn’t believe he was alive, he couldn’t believe they were going to Mount Olympus. He couldn’t believe they were going to meet the gods. 

Like he said, a lot of things. He and Dick had taken a taxi to the Empire State Building, and were standing outside waiting for Roy. The streets were just as lively and busy as they were in the morning. People rushed by, horns blared through the night. The city that never sleeps was wide awake, and it was calming Jason down more than he’d like to admit. It was just enough like Gotham to be familiar enough to soothe him. He stared up at the Empire State Building and watched as the clouds floated by, making the whole building look like it was moving, and making him dizzy.

Eventually an old red truck pulled up in front of them, and Roy got out. There was a bow in his hand and quiver on his back. The passersby didn’t even bat an eye, another thing Jason liked about New York and Gotham, nobody payed attention to anything. Roy stared at Jason, eyes wide and mouth open. He walked up and pulled Jason into a big bear hug. Jason laughed as he hugged Roy back.

“Shit man, what the fuck happened?” Roy asked, incredulous. 

“Dick,” Jason replied. “He made the Orpheus play and got my sorry ass out of there.” Jason replied. Roy turned and pulled Dick into a hug. Dick looked shocked, but laughed and hugged him back. Roy finally pulled away and looked at them both.    
“Well then, let’s go return some stolen property.” 

Without further ado they headed inside the building. Dick dealt with the receptionist, since he was the only one who actually knew how to get into Olympus thanks to his father, and then they crowded inside the elevator. Roy turned to Jason.

“What’s with the new hairdo, man?” He asked. Jason’s eyebrows creased.   
“What do you mean?” He asked. Roy snorted. 

“Really? There’s a giant white stripe in your bangs.” 

“What?” Jason started trying to pull his bangs down to eye level. He could barely see it, but what he did see made him groan. Roy was right, there was a giant white stripe in his bangs. Dick laughed and brushed his hands away.

“Don’t worry about it Jay, I actually kinda like it.” He said with a flirty smile. 

“Oh get a room,” Roy groaned. Jason rolled his eyes but let it go. 

The rest of the ride up the elevator was uneventful, and when they finally arrived at Mount Olympus, they were stunned. 

“Wow.” Dick said, eyes sweeping over the beautiful landscape. Jason couldn’t help but agree. It took them a good few hours to get all the way to the top of the mountain. The people stared at them as they passed; it had been years since they’d seen mortals in Olympus. 

Jason, Dick and Roy continued on, up the mountain and through the villages until they reached what looked like a giant pantheon. There were no guards, so they just walked inside. They were greeted by a massive marble room, and all twelve major gods sitting in the same U shape as the cabins back at camp. Jason’s eyes immediately went to Ares, who was practically glowing with pride. Jason grinned back, and then looked to Dick, whose eyes were on Aphrodite. She too looked proud. 

Zeus cleared his throat and the three of them turned to face him. At his side stood a tall blonde teenager. He wore nothing but a pair of jeans, and his eyes were glued to the bow in Roy’s hands. 

“The bow?” Zeus asked. 

“Oh, right.” Roy muttered. He took off the bow first, then the quiver, and walked up to hand them to the teenager, who could only be Eros. 

“Thanks, guys,” Eros said, grinning at the three of them. “I really don’t know what’d we’d have done without you. Each of you gets a favor from me. If you want to cash it in, just pray to yours truly, and I’ll be there. See ya on the flip side.” With a jaunty salute and the flap of wings he was gone, leaving them under the intense scrutiny of Zeus. Zeus who was practically glaring a hole in Jason’s head. 

“You were dead,” Zeus observed, eyes on Jason’s forehead, no doubt on the white in his hair. 

“Yes, Lord Zeus.” Jason replied, careful to keep his tone neutral. Zeus didn’t have any power over the Underworld, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t just kill Jason again and send him back.

“And you brought him back,” Zeus said, turning to Dick. Dick swallowed hard.

“I did, Lord Zeus.” 

Zeus sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. 

“Aphrodite, you’re children have always been lovesick fools, but this is a new low.” Zeus muttered. Aphrodite’s lips thinned in distaste, her eyes sharpening into a glare but she said nothing. What could she say? Zeus was all powerful, and he wasn’t exactly wrong either. 

“And don’t think I’m ignoring your part in this, Ares.” Zeus griped. Ares was looking carefully at the ceiling. Zeus sighed again; the sigh of the longsuffering. 

“I’m not going to punish you, any of you,” Zeus said suddenly. A weight lifted off of Dick’s shoulders. “Mostly because I won’t have to. You’ve defied fate, and they really hate it when people do that.” 

Dick stole a glance at his mother, who looked at him with sympathy. Zeus wasn’t wrong. The fates were notoriously fickle, and when they cut the string of life, they meant it. Jason, no matter what Dick might think, had been meant to die. The fates could do nothing to Hades, nor Ares or Aphrodite, the gods who’d helped them, because they were gods, their strings could not be cut. But Dick and Jason, them the fates could toy with for as long as their so desired. 

“There’s a balance to the universe, you know. The fates have made it so, and anything that upsets that balance must be rectified. I don’t have to punish you because the universe will do it for me.” Zeus went on. Dick stared at the floor. Zeus was right, Dick knew he was. Messing with the fates was dangerous, and Dick was willing to bet he’d just made his way onto their shitlist. 

“Nevertheless, we thank you for killing Arachne. You’ve done us all a great service. For that we thank you. You can now return to Camp Half-Blood.” Dick knew a dismissal when he heard one. He stole one last glance at his mother, his beautiful mother. At the moment she had changed her appearance to look like him; thick black hair flowing past her shoulders, and the bluest eyes in existence, the same blue eyes Dick himself had inherited. He didn’t know how much of his appearance came from his mother, and how much came from his father, but he’d been told more than once that he didn’t look much like John Grayson. He smiled at his mother, and knew Jason and Roy were doing the same to their parents, before he turned around and walked out. They made their way down the mountain silently, and didn’t speak until they were back in the elevator. 

“That was uneventful.” Roy muttered, he sounded surprised. 

“Zeus hates me.” Dick sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

“Not just you, sunshine.” Roy snarked.

“I don’t want fate to punish us.” Jason mumbled, put out. 

“Let’s just go home.” Dick said at last. Jason and Roy grunted their agreements. 

~~~

It took them less than a day to get back to Camp. They drove back in the red pick up Roy had driven over in. Dick couldn’t help the massive surge of relief that hit him when the brilliant green hill that led to camp finally came into view. When they finally made it all the way back, Chiron was waiting for them at the top of the hill. He pulled Dick into a hug when they finally reached him. 

“Thank you, all of you. You have done us all a great service. Tonight there’ll be a feast in your honor, and tomorrow a celebratory game of capture the flag.” Chiron said, laugh lines crinkling at the corners, a secret smile in his eyes.

Jason and Roy grinned, and Dick gave a tired smile.

“Thank you Chiron.” Dick said. Chiron nodded.

“Of course, my boy. And you’d better call your father, he’s been worried about you.”   
Dick groaned. “I’ll call him tomorrow. For now, I’m starving.” Chiron gave an exasperated sigh.

“Very well. To the Pavilion, then?”

~~~

Dinner was large and extravagant, and the three of them ate more in an hour than they had in weeks. Different campers came over to them, and asked them about their quest, but when the answers they received were tired and bare, they began to fade out until the trio was finally left alone. 

After the feast had ended, Roy retired to the Apollo cabin, and Jason and Dick walked to their clearing in the woods, a blanket in hand. When they got there Jason laid down the blanket and collapsed on top of it. Dick joined him soon after. He laid his head on Jason’s chest and closed his eyes. Jason wrapped an arm around Dick’s waist and pulled him tight against him. 

“Thank you,” Jason said silently. “For getting me out.” 

“You’re welcome,” Dick replied. “But I’ll admit, the reasons were mostly selfish. I couldn’t let you die.” 

Jason smiled. “I don’t really mind.” 

“Where were you anyway?” Dick asked. Jason knew what he meant, but he was hesitant to answer. He didn’t want Dick to think he’d pulled him out of heaven back to the hellhole that had been his life on Earth. Though that was technically true, he didn’t believe it, not anymore at least. He liked his life now that it finally had some substance. Elysium was nice, there was no doubt, but Jason had more living to do, and he’d be fine going back when he was finally ready. 

“Elysium.” Jason muttered. Better to tell the truth. Dick stiffened, and Jason stroked his hand soothingly along Dick’s side. 

“I’m so sorry.” Dick whispered, horrified, but Jason just shook his head. 

“Don’t worry about it Dickiebird. Nothing down there could ever match being with you up here. It was nice, but I’ve got more living to do. I just got my life in order, I finally have something worth living for,” Jason said, squeezing Dick’s side. “And I chose this over Elysium anyway. I didn’t have to go with you, I wanted to.”

“You mean I really could’ve been walking with nothing behind me?” Dick asked, horror in his voice. Jason squeezed his waist.

“I guess, but I’d never have done that to you.” He said. Dick kissed his collarbone.

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too,” Jason laughed lightly. 

“So where will you go, after all this is over?” Dick asked, turning his gaze away from Jason and up toward the stars sprinkled like salt across the sky. Jason shrugged.

“To be honest, I haven’t really thought back it. Probably back to Crime Alley though, not like I’ve got much choice in the matter. I guess I could ask Chiron if I could stay here. There’s probably campers with nowhere else to go, he’d probably let me stay.” 

Dick nodded, and was silent for a long while. 

“Or you could come stay with me?” he suggested suddenly. Jason was silent for a long time. He frowned up at the sky. 

“I don’t think I should go back to Gotham,” he said decidedly. “There’s too much bad there for me. Besides, you’ve been trained all your life by Bruce and Chiron, but I haven’t. I have too much to learn, and I won’t learn anything in Gotham. I’d have nothing to do there but sit around all day; I don’t think I could do it.” 

Dick tried not to feel rejected. He knew that wasn’t the case, no matter what it felt like. Jason was being cautious, and more than that he was right. Gotham was not a good place to be, especially for someone like Jason, who the fates had already been so unkind to. He would be safe in Camp Half-Blood, and more than that he would learn how better to defend himself. He would learn how to be a true son of Ares. Dick couldn’t take that away from him, he wouldn’t. 

“You’re right,” Dick said. Jason sighed.

“I know,” he said. 

“I’ll come visit you,” Dick said. “Don’t worry.” 

Jason snorted a laugh.

“I’ll never be worried about that,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last two chapters are coming, don't you worry.


	14. The Turning Point

“What?” Bruce asked. “What is it?” 

Clark shook his head, “It’s so simple, so simple I can’t believe I missed it.” He said, mystified by his own ignorance. Bruce glared at him.

“Clark, don’t be a dick, tell me what it is.” 

Clark just shook his head and took off into the building. 

“Dammit, Clark!” Bruce called after him, but was ignored. He huffed angrily, glaring at the cars speeding down the street, and headed in after Clark. 

“Clark!” He snapped. Clark was busy talking to the security guard who agreed to let them up with nothing but an annoyed look. He probably knew them better than his own children at this point, and yet Bruce was still willing to bet that no matter how many times they’d been to Olympus, the man would never happy about letting them up. Clark grabbed Bruce’s arm and pulled him into the elevator. He wasted no time in putting the security card inside the slot and hitting the button for the 600th floor when it appeared. 

“Clark, please, what’s going on? What did you figure out?” He asked. Clark ignored him still, and instead took Bruce’s face in his hands and kissed him rough and soundly. Bruce’s hands reached up to grab Clark’s wrists and gently pried them off his face. He was starting to get angry. They were a team, and Clark not telling him the plan was more of a betrayal than he wanted to admit. 

“Clark, I’m not kidding, what did you figure out?” 

Clark was grinning like a maniac, his eyes taking in their fill of Bruce. They glossed over the thick pitch black hair, the supermodel face that only came from decades of aristocratic breeding, the eyes that were so shockingly blue. Bruce was perfect in Clark’s eyes, and Clark would do anything to preserve that perfection. 

“I love you so much.” Clark said, kissing him again. Bruce grunted into the kiss, and pushed Clark away. 

“What the hell are you talking about? Clark, this isn’t funny. What’s going on?” Bruce was past impatient. Now he was just pissed. Clark laughed a funny little laugh as he gazed down at Bruce. 

“I figured it out Bruce. I figured out how we can have it all, and it’s simple, really. I can’t believe we haven’t thought of it before now.” Clark was proud of himself. He couldn’t believe he’d been the one to think of it, honestly. It had just been so simple, so ridiculously simple. Why it had never occurred to him, he didn’t know. 

“Then tell me already!” Bruce demanded.

“My patron, Bruce. Just like Artemis has her hunters, I’ll have you. You’ll live forever with me, immortal unless you’re killed, and I’d never let that happen. We’d be together for all eternity, I get to be a god, and I don’t have to lose you.” Clark pulled him into a hug and Bruce let himself be pulled along. He was completely dumbstruck. It was a tall order, asking someone to give up their mortal life for you. Bruce didn’t want to die, that much was true, but he couldn’t help but think about all the misery the gods lived with constantly. It struck him that it was an incredibly selfish thing Clark was asking of him. He was asking Bruce to make room in his life for Clark forever. There could never be anyone else if this worked. Bruce was okay with that now, but he was also an incredibly practical man, and eternity was a long time. Not even the gods had managed to go monogamous for that long, and Bruce sincerely doubted a pair of eighteen year old kids could outdo them on that front. He looked up at Clark and shook his head.

“Clark, I don’t think I can do that,” he said, unable to hide how completely shaken he was. Clark’s grin began to fade. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I mean, eternity’s a long time, and I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Bruce said. “I can’t be immortal Clark, I can’t outlive everyone I love.” 

Clark was outright frowning now. 

“Bruce, this is the only solution, I don’t want to lose you, and if I become a god I will, and I can’t give up on that, it’s my dream,” Clark reasoned. Bruce turned away from him, unable to look at his pleading eyes any longer. 

“Clark, I-” 

“Bruce,” Clark cut him off, taking his head in his hands. “You’re always talking about all the good you want to do, how you want to become a hero and protect the mortals from the gods, you can do a lot as a mortal yourself, but think of all the good you can go with an eternity on your side.” Clark knew he’d struck a chord when he saw the look in Bruce’s eyes changed. Bruce, despite his surly nature, had the best heart Clark had ever seen, and it made Clark sick to his stomach to manipulate it, but Clark could admit that he was selfish and petty, and he desperately didn’t want to lose Bruce. He wasn’t thinking about Bruce, and he knew that, but he knew this was the only solution that let them stay together. 

Bruce swallowed hard. 

“Clark, I don’t know,” he was still unsure, and he had every right to be, but Clark couldn’t let him stay that way. 

“Bruce, you won’t even really be immortal; you’ll still be able to die,” Clark pleaded. The elevator finally stopped, and even as the door opened Bruce remained unsure. He thought about all the people he’d be leaving behind, and realized suddenly that it was really only Alfred. He had no friends, no real ones at least. His only friend was Clark, and his only family was Alfred, and mortal or not Bruce knew he would outlive Alfred. Bruce pulled away from Clark and looked out over the vast beauty that was Mount Olympus. It was a truly beautiful place, but it would never be home. 

“Fine,” Bruce said, finally. “Fine, we’ll do it your way. But this better work.” 

Clark grinned ear to ear, and kissed Bruce soundly. 

“It’ll work,” he said, and took Bruce’s hand. Together, with Clark in the lead, they made their way back up the Mountain. They passed the same stores and people as they had last time. There were a few new faces in the mix, but Clark doubted the population of Olympus was very big. He pulled Bruce along, not stopping anywhere, eyes set on his target: the pantheon at the top of the mountain. A luxurious marble and gold palace made for the gods. It was beautiful, and he was about to earn his place in it, with loyal Bruce at his side. When they reached the top of the mountain, Bruce stopped before going in. Clark turned to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Bruce swallowed hard, he shook his head, and looked back toward the elevator. 

“Hey,” Clark said, squeezing Bruce’s hand lightly. Bruce turned back, his stomach a twisting turning mass of nerves. He was utterly terrified, and Clark could see it in his eyes.

“Trust me?” Clark asked.

“Always,” Bruce replied, his voice shaking. Clark smiled. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” He gave Bruce one last chaste kiss, turned back to the pantheon, and walked inside. Bruce followed close behind, and his breath caught when they made it to the throne room. The room made a giant u, the same way the cabins at camp did. Sitting at the middle throne, the grandest, was Zeus; Clark’s father. He was looking down at Clark with a massive grin on his face, and a proud light in his stormy blue eyes. Bruce chanced a look at his mother. She was sitting in her throne, dignified as ever, and though there wasn’t much emotion in her eyes, what was there left Bruce reeling. She looked at him with love, but mostly she looked at him with sympathy, as if she knew the fate looming over him. Bruce looked away; he couldn’t handle the sympathy. 

“My son!” Zeus bellowed gleefully, standing from his chair, and making his way to Clark. He pulled Clark into a massive hug, and clapped him on the back. Bruce’s lips twitched into a nostalgic smile. There was only one person in the world who could make Clark Kent wince at a hug, and that person was Zeus. 

“My son! Hero, and now god! I couldn’t be more proud.” Zeus said. His sky blue eyes, so much like Clark’s own, were twinkling. 

“Father, I’m so proud to be here, to finally be here. But I wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for Bruce.” Clark looked back, the love on his face overwhelming. Bruce smiled as much as he could, and raised a hand in greeting, his knees felt weak, and in the back of his mind he wondered how he hadn’t already fallen. Zeus eyed him appraisingly. 

“Yes, I’ve heard of this one.” He walked over to Bruce and put a hand lightly on his shoulder as so not to crush him. “You are one of the best men any of us have produced, and definitely the best mortal man alive, aside from my son. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you chose Clark. We are all very proud.” Zeus said sincerely. Bruce felt guilt pool in the bottom of his stomach, but he didn’t know why. He knew he wasn’t betraying the mortal world, he’d still technically be mortal, but despite it all he felt like he was cheating. His father used to tell him that man had no business trying to be better than gods. 

Bruce smiled in thanks at Zeus all the same. 

“Thank you, Lord Zeus. I’m honored to have been able to help.” He said humbly. Zeus’ smile only grew, and he clapped Bruce on the back, making Bruce wince. He then made his way back to his throne. Bruce knew without a shadow of a doubt that there weren’t very many men that Zeus left his throne for, and despite his tumultuous feelings about the situation, he was incredibly honored to be one of them.

“Now, back to business. Clark, my son, you are aware of the gift you have been promised.” Zeus said, severity returning as he gazed down at his son. 

“I am, father. I was promised godhood by the fates, should I earn it.” Clark replied. Outwardly he looked just as unaffected as any god, but Bruce knew him better than that. Clark was just as nervous as he was. For all that Clark’s idea seemed foolproof, there was still a chance it might not work. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure whether he wanted it to or not. 

“I’d say you have. You’ve saved all of us more than once, and now you have defeated a god as a mortal.” There was that proud glint again, and this time Clark failed in hiding his blush. 

“Of course, the choice is yours in the end. Will you ascend to godhood, and leave the Earth behind, or will you remain mortal and never see Olympus from the eyes of a god?” Clark glanced back at Bruce, who’d gone noticeably pale. This was the moment they’d all been waiting for, the choice that would decide the rest of their eternity. Bruce swallowed hard; whatever happened, he trusted Clark. Clark turned back to Zeus with a thousand watt smile.

“I’ve chosen to ascend, father.” 

The bottom dropped out of Bruce’s stomach; the choice had been made. 

Zeus boomed out a delighted laugh. He raised his lightning bolt to the sky and lightning cracked through the roof of the pantheon, striking Clark. Bright white light buzzed around him, electricity crackling through the air. Bruce backed up, and turned away, shielding his eyes. Finally the light dimmed, and the electricity grew silent, the power receding. Bruce turned back and stared wide eyed at what he saw. 

Clark stood there, but he wasn’t exactly the same as before. He was taller, his muscles were larger and he himself looked grander. When he turned around Bruce saw that his eyes were inhumanly blue. His skin was perfect, devoid of any blemishes or scars. When he smiled at Bruce he was breathtaking. 

Clark turned back to Zeus, who hadn’t stopped grinning the entire time.    
“You are now Kal, the god of hope, protection, resilience and strength. You are the patron god of the people, and protector of man. You are the guardian of the mortal world. You are their protection, their hope.” Zeus said. Bruce could think of nothing more fitting. He could see himself, injured on the battlefield, praying to Clark to protect him. Clark, for all his faults, was a protector, and he would defend humanity to his last breath. 

“Father, I have something to ask, as my first action as a god.” Clark said suddenly. Bruce’s breath hitched, Athena looked down at him sharply, and Bruce found himself looking away. This was the moment when Bruce would cease to be man, and begin challenging gods. His father’s voice rung in his ears, and he almost asked Clark to stop, but he couldn’t. Instead he stood tall, and tried not to let the dark spots at the edges of his vision win.

“Yes, son?” 

“I would like to make Bruce Wayne my patron.” 

The blood roared in Bruce’s ears. Athena’s eyes were fixed on his, but he looked determinedly at Zeus.

“What?” Zeus asked ineloquently, obviously dumbstruck. It wasn’t uncommon for gods to take patrons, not really, although the only one who consistently did was Artemis, however they usually didn’t take them on a mere minute after achieving godhood. 

“Artemis has her hunters, Apollo has his muses. I would Bruce my patron. He will be my companion, my conscience, my mortal guide for eternity; I can think of no one better.” 

Bruce dared a glance at Athena. She was gazing fixedly at him, her eyebrows strewn together in concern. She didn’t care what Clark was saying, she was worried about Bruce. Bruce was worried about himself too. 

Zeus sat back in his chair, clearing his throat. He seemed at a loss as for what to do. 

“Kal, patrons are a very serious business. Usually older gods take them on, and they are for eternity, as long as they do not die in battle.” 

“I know, Lord Zeus. Which is why I’m making Bruce mine. There’s no one that I would rather have at my side for all eternity than him.” 

Zeus turned to Bruce.

“And you, do you accept this offer?” Zeus asked. That was the real question. Did Bruce accept the offer? Did he dare to go eternity with the same man, did he dare to leave behind everything he knew, did he dare to be more than human?

“I do.” Bruce said, after a beat. There was silence in the room, all except Aphrodite, who was practically cooing at their egregious declarations of love. 

Zeus appeared to be at a loss for words. 

“Well, in the end this is not up to me. He will be your patron, and as such this is your decision Kal. This man will be yours to make immortal, and he will be yours to look after.” 

“I know.” Clark said. There was no hesitation in his voice.

“Very well then.” Zeus said, and what more could he say? Clark had said it all. 

Clark turned around and walked to Bruce, who was staring at him wide eyed. 

“Do you swear to be by my side for all eternity? To my guide, my confidant, my mortal conscience?” Clark asked. The roaring in his ears was so loud Bruce barely heard his own reply.

“I do.” 

“Thank you, Bruce.” Clark said quietly, the words for Bruce’s ears alone. He put a finger to Bruce’s forehead and electricity shot through him straight into Bruce. Bruce could feel the power flowing through him. It barely lasted more than a second, and then suddenly it stopped. Bruce was panting, he felt bone tired and muscles felt weak. It felt like he’d run a marathon. He’s knees wobbled, and he barely kept himself from falling. He rested his hands on his thighs, panting. 

Clark put an arm around Bruce and Bruce slumped against him gratefully. They turned back to Zeus, who was looking at them curiously, like maybe he’d just understood that their relationship was more than companions, though it seemed impossible that he hadn’t known it until now. 

“You have a home here, both of you. A pantheon of your own just below here, but we cannot stop you from staying on Earth if that’s what you wish. You are a god now Kal, and as such you are free to do as you please.” Zeus said. 

“Thank you, father.” Clark replied, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. 

They could have stayed on the mountain, but at the moment all Bruce wanted to do was go home, and Clark seemed to agree. They turned to leave, but were stopped. Athena stood there, her hand on Bruce’s arm.    
“Kal, if you don’t mind I’d like a word with my son,” she said. It was clear she wasn’t asking, she was telling. Clark nodded.

“Sure, I’ll be outside.” Clark made sure Bruce could stand on his own before walking away through the Pantheon’s pillared entrance. Athena led Bruce away from the watchful eyes of the other eleven gods, and over to a table full of ambrosia and nectar. Athena helped Bruce drink a small goblet of nectar until he regained his strength, then she touched his face and looked him over, a sad smile gracing her beautiful features. 

“You look so much like your father, and yet, every time I look at you I see more of myself than him. That is not true today though, I think. Today more than any other, you are human, undeniably so.” She said. Bruce shrugged.   
“I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever been less human,” he admitted. Athena shook her head.

“I disagree. Only a human could give of  _ their _ humanity for the sake of humanity.” 

Bruce found it difficult to disagree. 

“I’m scared, mom,” he said finally, his voice shaking. “I don’t know if I can do this.” 

She pulled him into a hug, and Bruce clung desperately to his mother, near tears. 

“You can Bruce, I have no doubt. You did this not for Clark, but for the generations of people you can help. Of that I am certain, and it is because of that that I know you will not fail here. You’re father was wrong Bruce; man has always been better than the gods, and you are the best of men.”    
Bruce finally pulled away, a small smile on his face. She was right, this was not about Clark. Clark gave him the means, but it was Bruce who would take the opportunity. He would become something more than he was before. He would become the hero the world needed. Well, maybe not the world, maybe he’d start small, maybe he’d start with Gotham.

“How do I do this?” He asked. Athena stood for a moment, silent. 

“Take something that scares you, terrifies you to your very core, and twist it to your advantage. Overcome your fear, become fearless, and in turn make your enemies cower at the sight of you.” The wisdom of Athena was truly a sight to behold. Bruce stood tall and nodded. He hugged his mother one last time, and then pulled away, a new resilience shining in his eyes. 

“I think I have some work to do,” Bruce said. Athena smiled.   
“Put that brain I gave you to good use. When you hear about the thing in the dark that all men fear, let that be you,” She said. Bruce nodded once more and left. 

He found Clark waiting for him outside, and Bruce now saw him with a new light. For all the power Clark now held, he was naive, and Bruce, well Bruce had always been a practical man. 

“Ready to go home?” Clark asked. Bruce nodded.

“Yeah, I am.” Not just home to camp, home to Gotham, but he could break the news to Clark later. 

Clark grinned, and picked Bruce up, flying them both down the mountain. When they reached the elevator Clark landed softly and pressed the button for it to open. 

“So you can fly now?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yup.” Clark grinned. 

“Anything else?”

“Plenty.” 

“And you know how?”

“I dunno,” Clark shrugged. “I just do.” 

They entered the elevator and they both stepped inside. Clark sagged against a wall, huffing out a breath in relief. 

“I can’t believe that worked.” Clark muttered.

“Me either.” Bruce laughed. Suddenly Clark was in front of him, slamming him with inhuman strength against the wall of the elevator. He kissed Bruce rough and dirty, tongue sliding inside his mouth, hands tangling in his hair. Bruce groaned, head falling back as Clark ground himself against Bruce. Clark’s mouth continued down, mouthing at Bruce’s neck. He bit and sucked at the sensitive skin of Bruce’s pulse. Eventually Bruce shoved him back, finally taking control. 

“What?” Clark asked. Bruce raised an eyebrow.   
“I’m not having sex in an elevator,” he said. Clark snorted, and advanced again, but Bruce held up a hand to stop him.   
“I said no, Clark.” 

Clark let up, a confused look on his face, and Bruce leaned back against the wall of the elevator. Something had changed in him. He felt a new sense of power. Something dark circled around him. He’d been waiting a long time to avenge the death of his father, and with this new found power Clark had unknowingly given him, Bruce thought he could probably do a lot more than just that. 

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. They walked together out onto the street. 

“Care to take the short way home?” Clark asked. Bruce shrugged.    
“Might as well get used to it,” he replied. Clark picked him up and then they were flying at jet speed through the air. Bruce shut his eyes against the wind, and turned his head into Clark’s chest. They landed mere moments later at the entrance to Camp Half-Blood. Bruce opened his eyes and stared up at Clark, a smirk on his face.

“So, you’re fast too?” 

“Yup.” 

“Better keep that one out of the bedroom,” he snarked, and pulled himself delicately from Clark’s arms. He began to trudge up the hill, not looking back to see if Clark was following.  

“You know, you left our things in New York, right?” He called back.

“I’ll go back and get them tomorrow.” Clark replied dismissively.

“You know a giant red truck was one of those things.”

Clark shrugged, “I’ll get it tomorrow.” 

Bruce barely held off rolling his eyes. 

They made their way through the camp to the Big House, where Chiron greeted them. He pulled them both into a tight hug, and glowed with utter pride when he looked at Clark.

“In all my years, barely any of my students have achieved their goals. Most died, and honestly, I had been growing weary. But you Clark, Kal, you are the pinnacle of my achievements. Not only did you save us all, but you achieved your godhood. I couldn’t be more proud of you.” He turned to Bruce, and smiled. “I had worried for you Bruce, worried that you would get caught in the crosshairs of Clark’s battles. I never imagined this is how it would end. I should have, though. I was a fool to think you could ever be apart.” He smiled warmly at them, and Bruce felt a swell of pride in the pit of his stomach. “I will miss you both,” Chiron said. “Now get some sleep. We’ll hold a celebration for you both tomorrow.” 

They left the Big House, and made their way back to Clark’s cabin. 

“What will we do?” Clark asked. Bruce knew what he meant without asking. What would they do now? Now that they couldn’t stay at the camp any longer, now that they were more than mortal. 

“We’ll go home, home home, and we’ll live our lives, and we’ll save people in between. You’re the protector of humanity Clark, that’s a pretty broad task.”

“I’m sure we’re up for the challenge.” Clark said as they reached the door to the cabin.

“I’m sure we are.” Bruce agreed. His thoughts were spinning, in his head he was already planning. Planning for something no one could see coming, not even Clark. He smiled to himself as he pulled off his clothes, and began to search for pajamas. He’d have to put a call out to Alfred in the morning. He had a lot of work to do. 


End file.
